


Just a Touch of Lips

by Salambo06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Texting, Unilock, becoming friends, friends to lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-07 08:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11054706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salambo06/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: Two weeks ago, Sherlock kissed a blindfolded John Watson, captain of the Rugby Team, during an university event and left before he could see his face.Neither have been able to think about anything else since.When Mike mentions a certain student in his Chemistry class who could help John find his mysterious kisser, they both find themselves in a situation they hadn't expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Just a Touch of Lips](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11662506) by [Gnewtt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnewtt/pseuds/Gnewtt)



> Hello everyone!
> 
> I know, I still have WIPs to finish, but I promise this one will be quick. I've already written six chapters, and all of them are somewhat short. I plan on posting one every day until it's finished. 
> 
> I hope you'll like reading this fiction as much as I enjoy writing it!
> 
> Pauline.

Sherlock is about to do something stupid.

He knows he shouldn’t be here. Just like he knows there’s a high chance he’s going to ruin everything just because he can’t stop his feet from taking him closer and closer to the right cabin. He pushes the back door open, listening for any sign or sound of anyone approaching before closing it carefully behind him. The place is dark except for a ray of light passing through the old wood walls. Most of the forain had the same cabins for their attractions, most likely due to the budget cuts coming from the headmaster. The man wasn’t particularly fond of these gatherings (a shared sentiment) but the publicity for the University was too important to ignore, and really, why would anyone try to stop students from doing charities.

Sherlock takes a deep breath, walking toward the furthest room with a determination he’s certain will falter soon. That’s where he will be. As the captain of the rugby team, John Watson will of course be the last one to _participate_ in this  event. Sherlock has no interest (at all) in the other member of the team (or the other students in general), so he avoids all the other doors. He vaguely hears a girl giggling in one, quickly followed by a deeper laugh, but doesn't stop.

 _Idiots_ , he thinks.

He reaches the last door quicker than expected, and now that he’s staring at it, Sherlock isn’t so sure anymore. He should turn around, walk away and pretend he never had this idea in the first place. He doesn’t even know why he came in at all. He had only intended to drop by the Chemistry lab and then go back home immediately, but as he was walking by, the same rumors kept on going around him, _the entire team is collecting money, five pounds for five kisses! And even Watson is doing it!_

Any students or inhabitants of the town know about the famous Rugby team and more importantly, about its captain, John Watson. The fact that even Sherlock knows about him is a bit more alarming.

“Better come in or you’ll miss your chance.”

Sherlock snaps back to reality, staring at the door in front of him again, suddenly well aware of the person standing behind it and waiting for him to come inside. This is stupid, the stupidest thing Sherlock has ever done, and yet, he pushes the door open.

“Finally,” John says, a blindfold over his eyes and a grin on his lips. “I thought you were never coming in.”

Sherlock doesn’t reply, taking a step closer. He’s not sure he’s breathing anymore, and each step towards John makes the heaviness in his chest grow more and more.

“Thank you for donating to the team,” John continues, a phrase he’d most likely said to all the people who opened the door before Sherlock. “It’ll help us win this season for sure!”

Sherlock lets out a quiet breath. What is he doing? He can’t just kiss John Watson. Even when he allows himself to think about it, to think about _him_ , it’s never like this. There’s always John’s blue eyes, watching him as they lean closer to each other. There’s John’s constant, contagious smile, meant only for him in a moment that turns into forever. There’s John’s strong, calloused hands on him, keeping Sherlock close and shivering as they exchange kiss after kiss.

Not this.

“Not much of a talker are you?” John jokes, his laughter echoing in the room.

Sherlock closes his eyes and considers leaving without him noticing.

“Come on,” John says.

One year, seven months, fifteen days and forty-two minutes since Sherlock’s path crossed John’s for the first time.

“Claim your kiss,” John continues.

Sherlock’s eyes drop to John’s mouth.

One year, seven months, fifteen days and forty-one minutes since Sherlock can’t seem to stop wondering what it would feel like to get to know John, to talk to him, to touch him, to taste him.

“The next student will arrive soon so you bette-”

Sherlock takes the final step and all but presses their mouths together in one brief, clumsy touch. It only occurs to him now that he has no idea what he’s doing, or what he’s supposed to do next, and panic starts to invade him. He forces himself to focus on John’s lips, soft, tasting of coffee and ginger biscuits, and his breath, hot against his skin. Holding his own breath, Sherlock pulls away, opening his eyes and committing everything to memory. He fights back the urge to lean for another kiss, for more data, for more time, for _more_.

“Wait,” John interrupts him, his voice almost a whisper, “again, tilt your head to the side.” Sherlock stares at him, unable to move. “Again,” John repeats.

John leans forward blindly and Sherlock finds himself kissing John Watson a second time. He follows his advice and remembers to tilt his head before pressing their lips together again. _Oh_. It’s different. Sherlock exhales loudly and curses himself immediately, but he feels John’s lips stretch into a smile against his own, and soon he’s applying just a bit more pressure to the kiss. Sherlock closes his hands into fists by his sides, stopping himself from gripping John’s shirt, and lets John teach him without a word how to kiss.

Sherlock barely holds back a protest when John lets go of him, pulling away for the briefest of seconds before he’s kissing him again. Sherlock is not certain he understands what is happening. He had thought he could steal a kiss from John without him ever knowing, and pretend it never happened. He would have shut down his constant need _to know more_ , and he could have focused on what really mattered again. Far from John Watson, far from the medicine Hall, far from the rugby field.

 _Stupid_.

A sound echoes in the room, and for a second, Sherlock fears he’s the one making it. But here it goes again, and there’s no doubt who’s the source. Sherlock shuts his eyes tighter, feeling something close to pride as he realises John is sighing happily because of him. Their lips are moving on their own now, pulling away and meeting again. Sherlock wonders for a moment if John had kissed all of the previous donators like this, but pushes the thought away quickly. It doesn't matter. It doesn’t matter because John is never going to kiss him again afterward, he’s never going to know he kissed Sherlock Holmes in the first place.

It doesn’t matter.

Danger presents himself when John pulls away for the sixth time and tries to reach for him. Sherlock takes a step back instantly, eyes snapping open and his heart pounding. He allows himself another second. _John. Smiling. Lips partly open. Short of breath. Hand hanging in the air. A frown on his forehead. John_.

“What are you doing?” John asks, hands going for the blindfold.

Sherlock flees the room.


	2. Chapter 2

John is going mad.

“Oh no,” Mike sighs next to him, “Not again.”

John shrugs, eyes fixed on the papers in front of him, “Leave me alone.”

“It’s been two weeks, mate, let it go.”

John shrugs again, eyes moving from name to name. 

“You’ve read that bloody thing a thousand times already,” Mike continues, “You’ve talked to all the people who signed up that afternoon, what more can you find now?”

“I don’t know,” John replies honestly, “anything.”

“It’s obvious this person didn’t sign up, John,” comes a second voice. John looks up as Greg sits down, taking the paper away from him. “That cabin had a back door, you know.”

John closes his eyes, sighing, “I’m screwed.”

Mike laughs next to him, “I still don’t understand why you want to find this person.”

John keeps his eyes closed, memories of the anonymous kisser coming back to him. He smiles, shaking his head, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“For God’s sake,” Greg says, poking his leg under the table, “Must have been one hell of a kiss!”

John looks back at them, feeling himself blush like a bloody teenager, “Stop.”

Greg laughs, grinning, “I’m just saying, if you can’t stop thinking about a kiss after two weeks, it must have been something.”

“Greg, let him be,” Mike intervenes, “He’s miserable enough.”

“I’m not miserable,” John protests. “I just want to know who it was.”

“Yeah, so you can kiss her again, and with some tongue this time!” 

“Greg, seriously!” Mike sighs.

John stares at the inscriptions on the cafeteria table, fingers tracing the random letters, “I don’t think it was a girl.” Greg and Mike go quiet. “Didn’t feel like a girl.”

“Oh,” Mike breathes out. “That actually helps. There weren’t many guys that donated.”

“We already made it clear that guy didn’t sign up,” Greg said again. 

They remain silent for another minute. John knows what he sounds like. He’s been talking about that kiss non-stop for the past two weeks, and it is a miracle Mike and Greg haven’t punched him yet. The fact is, he can’t stop himself. Ever since he had removed the blindfold and found the room empty, John had been dying to know who he had just kissed. 

“Seriously, mate,” Greg starts again, leaning forward and forcing John’s eyes back up, “What was so spectacular about that kiss?”

“Greg...” John sighs.

“I’m serious,” Greg says, raising both hands in defense, “I just want to understand. I’ll be happy to help you, but I can’t wrap my head around this whole kiss thing. I mean, I’ve had brilliant kisses before, but nothing that drove me mad for weeks.”

“It was just-” John says before stopping, smiling to himself. “To be honest, I think it was his first kiss. The guy, I mean. He was so hesitant at first, didn’t know how to place his head, how to align our mouths. He just stood there.”

“Oh right, I get it now, must have been a fantastic experien-”

“Shut it,” John stops Greg, reaching over the table to hit him on the head, making the three of them laugh. “I said, at first. But after a few other tries, he became much better at it.”

“Weren’t you supposed to give all those people one kiss only?” Mike smiles.

John rolls his eyes, “I know, but after that first- god, you can’t even call that a kiss, just a touch of lips, I couldn’t let him go.” John sighs again, closing his eyes and letting his head fall backward. “I don’t know what happened, but I couldn’t stop kissing him.”

It’s still strange, thinking about it. John had kissed a fair amount of people, not too many, but quite a lot. Just two weeks ago he had kissed and kissed stranger after stranger, sharing laughter and flirty promises, but for some unknown reason, none of them had felt like the last one. John could still remember the stillness of the first contact and then the building up, their kisses growing bolder and bolder, and  _ fuck,  _ he had even moaned. 

“You know what,” Greg says after a moment, “I’m going to help you.”

“Thanks mate, but I think it’s a lost cause now,” John sighs. “For all I know that guy doesn’t even go here, could be thousand miles away.”

“Right, and he just happened to be there to kiss you, and only you, two weeks ago,” Mike reminds him, making something in John’s chest warmer at the words.

“Wait,” Greg says, “He only kissed you?”

John looks back at him, “I thought I told you.” Greg shakes his head. “When I went looking for him, I found a girl waiting at the door. She said she’d been waiting before coming in. She had come with a group of friends, one of whom I had kissed before that guy, and that she was next in the line. She had come straight from the previous room, so my anonymous kisser went directly for me and none of the others.”

Greg stares at him for another second, “Ok, this is getting interesting now.”

John laughs, rubbing one hand over his nape, “I just want to find him, and then… then I’ll see.”

“I think I know someone who can help you,” Greg says before glancing at Mike. 

“Oh,” Mike smiles, “Of course!”

“Who?”

Mike puts away the book he’s been reading absently and turns to face him properly, “I share a class with this guy in Chemistry who knows everything about everyone. Greg met him once and in less than a minute that guy told him Stefany had been cheating on him for months.”

“Bastard,” Greg cursed, “but he was right. He just looked at me and pointed out all the signs proving so. Impressive!”

“And you think he can help me?” John asks, intrigued.

“If you can convince him, sure,” Mike adds with a smile. “He’s not the most social man I’ve met, that’s certain.”

“That mysterious kisser is worth a try, right?” Greg asks, grinning now.

_ Of course he is _ , John thinks.


	3. Chapter 3

The entire College knows.

Sherlock can’t walk down a hallway without hearing about the “mysterious kisser”. He has stopped counting the number of girls talking about it in the hallway, _he never came to ask if it was me, do you think I should go talk to him?_ _Oh god, yes, what are you waiting for! It could be you!_ , and Sherlock is not sure he can take it any longer. The thing is, if John is looking for him, it is only a matter of time before he finds out who kissed him and then Sherlock will have to flee the town or face him. He’s not sure yet which option is the best.

He had been careful, of course, had avoided eye contact and taken empty streets after leaving the cabin, but still, anyone could have seen him. Anyone could have caught just the briefest sight of him exiting the cabin and will eventually manage to tell John about it. 

Even after two weeks, John doesn’t seem to be giving up, and Sherlock can’t seem to be able to stop thinking about it means. 

“Stop it,” Sherlock curses under his breath, closing the book in front of him harshly and earning a glare from the librarian. Ignoring her entirely, he goes to the Chemistry section and puts it back on the shelf, eyes scanning the other manuals. He needs to focus, needs to finish this boring paper and please his idiot of a teacher so he can move onto more interesting classes. And it isn’t going to work if he keeps thinking about John looking for him.

It doesn’t matter that John hasn’t given up. It doesn’t matter that John apparently wants nothing more but to find the mysterious kisser. It doesn’t matter that John can’t stop thinking about him, Sherlock Holmes. 

“He doesn’t know,” Sherlock whispers to himself, “he doesn’t know and will never know. He’ll get bored, forget about it and so will the entire school. He doesn’t know, doesn’t know, doe-”

“Sorry, are you Sherlock Holmes?” 

At precisely 11:34 am on a rather boring day, Sherlock hears John Watson say his name for the first time.

“Excuse me,” John continues, taking a step closer and Sherlock suddenly remembers to breathe. “Are you?”

Sherlock turns to face him, taking in the worried eyes, the coffee stain on his shirt, the two anatomy manuals in his hand and the hesitant smile, and manages to reply, “Why?”

John frowns, “I’m looking for him and someone pointed to you.”

For less than a half-second, Sherlock thinks John somehow found out, but no. The John facing him is nervous for an entire different reason, “I am.”

“Thank god,” John sighs, looking much relieved now, “I thought I’d never find you. I’ve been looking for hours.”

It’s Sherlock’s time to frown, “Why?”

“We have a friend in common. Mike,” John smiles.

“Who?”

“Mike Stamford, he’s in Chemistry with you, glasses, always reading a boo-”

“Oh, yes,” Sherlock cuts him off, knowing perfectly who Mike Stamford is. 

John’s smile widens and Sherlock forces himself to look away. He’s kissed these lips, and it’s becoming harder and harder not to think about it.

“He said you could help me with something,” John continues. 

Sherlock’s eyes are back on him, “You don’t study Chemistry and I don’t recall ever talking about medicine with Stamford. I fail to see how I could help you with anything.”

He begins to walk away, well aware John needs to go now before he says or does something stupid, but John follows him, “Wait, it’s not about classes.”

Sherlock quickens his pace, “I don’t want to help you.”

John catches up with him quickly, “Please, you’re my only hope left. I’ll return the favor.”

Sherlock shakes his head, heading for the exit doors, “I don’t want any favors from you.”

He hears John throwing his books on the nearest table as he follows him out and before Sherlock can react he’s grabbing his arm and forcing him to turn around. “Sorry,” he apologizes immediately, letting go, “But just hear me out first.”

Sherlock looks down at his wrist, the feeling of John’s fingers around it still too present, and refuses to look back up just yet.

“I’m John, John Watson. I’m sure you heard about me lately, and that’s actually why I’m here.” He laughs nervously, and Sherlock slowly raises his head toward him again. “My team- the rugby team- held a donation two weeks ago, a pound a for kiss, that kind of thing, and some idiot said it’ll be funnier if we were blindfolded.”

“I don-” Sherlock begins but John holds up a hand.

“Please, just let me finish and then you can laugh at my face and go.”

Sherlock swallows down slowly before nodding. John lets out a loud breath and smiles, “Thanks. Anyway, a guy came, kissed me and left before I could do anything. I’ve been trying to find him for weeks, but I can’t. Mike said you were bloody brilliant at solving mysteries, so I thought you could help me find him.”

“A guy?” Sherlock asks, throat dry.

John stares at him for a moment before saying, almost defensively, “Yes. Why?”

Sherlock shakes his head quickly, “Data.”

“Oh, so you’re going to help me?” John says, hopeful. 

_ This is a bad idea _ .

“I’ve got somewhere to be,” Sherlock declares, already turning his back to John and walking away. “I’ll find you.”

“Wait,” John calls. “What do you mean you’ll find me?”

Sherlock turns down the nearest hallway and speeds up until he’s sure John isn’t following him. He isn’t certain what exactly just happened, but somehow, he had just agreed to help John find- well, find him. Of course he had been aware of the connection between Stamford and John, having seen the two of them together before, and it would be lying to say he hadn’t thought of using this connection to approach John in the past. There had been so many opportunities, so many plans and  _ almost _ , but Sherlock had always chosen to back up. 

Just like he should have just now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's the week end, I'll also be posting chapter 5 & 6 earlier than usual. Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos, I love reading all of them!
> 
> I also have a quick question, I'm thinking about taking this fic slow. Not when it comes to get them together, because you'll see, they're both already mad about the other, but after they are together, I was thinking I could show their first steps as a couple. What do you think?
> 
> Enjoy this chapter,  
> Pauline.

 John holds back a cry of surprise as someone sits unexpectedly in front of him. It only takes a second for him to recognize Sherlock Holmes, his last chance to find his mysterious kisser. “I was starting to think you forgot about me,” John smiles but the other student remains deadly serious. John licks his lips, closing his book and setting it aside before saying, “You never did say you’d help me.” 

“I said I’d find you,” Sherlock replies, and John suddenly remembers the deep voice. 

It had all gone too fast the last time, and he barely had had the time to notice anything about the man. But his voice, well, let’s say John had been thinking about it a little too much. 

“That wasn’t a clear answer,” he remarks, eyes traveling over Sherlock’s face. They both remain silent for another minute, before John lets out a small laugh, “So, yes or no?”

Sherlock sighs, “I’m here, am I?”

John nods, his fingers drumming on the table, “Thank you, for doing this, you really didn’t have to.”

Sherlock shrugs, not saying anything. John had asked Mike and Greg a bit more about him, and all they had to say was that the man was bloody clever and a pain in the arse for the teacher. They said he didn’t have many friends (not at all) and spent most of the class on his phone or doing something else entirely. They apparently forgot to mention the cheekbones, the piercing eyes and dark curls. 

“So,” John starts again, rubbing a hand over his nape and trying to catch Sherlock’s unfocused eyes, “What’s your plan?”

“Find the person who kissed you,” Sherlock replies, his tone almost bored, and John holds back a smile.

“Obviously, yes,” he replies, “but how? I mean, Mike told me you were clever, but-”

“You don’t believe him?” Sherlock asks, all too serious.

“That’s not what I-” John clears his throat. “I don’t know you, so I have to believe him, don’t I?”

Sherlock’s eyes travel over his face and John forces himself not to look away. 

“You’re studying medicine, have been for the past three years but you transferred to this College a little over two years ago. Your grades weren’t good enough for your previous one and you got into this one because of your sport skills.”

“You’re saying I’m not a good student?” John asks, more amused than offended.

“I’m saying you choose a difficult subject to study but you’re holding on to it, so you’ll pass. You don’t give up easily and do anything necessary to succeed. You’re currently living far from campus but you don’t miss a single class, or a training. Which is why you were quickly promoted to Captain of the team.” Sherlock stops, now leaning closer over the table, and John remembers to inhale. “You’re planning to move closer as soon as you save enough money, which should be in another two to three months, depending on whether your sister needs another month in rehab or not.”

Sherlock leans away, both hands disappearing under the table, as if ready to leave any second, but John can’t seem to focus anymore. He stares, and stares again before letting out a shaky breath, “That was-” He shakes his head, actually laughing, “Brilliant. 

Sherlock remains silent for another second before asking with a frown, “Brilliant?”

“Yes,” John laughs again, “Amazing. Greg said you could, I don’t know, read someone, but- I didn’t expect that.”

“You’re not offended?” Sherlock asks, leaning closer again and John shakes his head.

“You’ll need to explain how you know some of these things, but no, not offended. It’s all true after all, so…”

Sherlock smiles, and John realises it’s the first time he’s seen him doing so. He smiles back, letting the silence between them stretch into something almost comfortable. 

“I’m not sure how it’s going to help you find that guy,” John adds after a moment, and Sherlock’s smile fades away, “but you’re definitely my best shot, for sure.”

“Yes, right,” Sherlock says, looking down at the table before saying, “I just need some more information, and I will bring this person to you.”

“Alright, ask away!”

Sherlock looks back at him, waiting for another moment before asking, “What makes you sure this person is male?”

John sighs, “I don’t know for sure, but it felt like it. His cologne, the feeling of his jaw, his cheek against mine, the texture of his lips. It all felt masculine to me,” he tries to explain, memories of the kiss surging back. 

“Taller or shorter than you?” Sherlock asks next, apparently not lingering on the details. 

“Taller,” John answers quickly.

“Anything particular you felt during the kiss, a scar maybe?” John shakes his head. “Did you hear his voice?” Another shake of the head. “Did you touch him?”

“I tried but he ran away,” John explains. “As I said to my friends before, I think it was a first kiss, for him I mean. He was unsure at first but got really good at the end. Maybe he panicked?” John offers, still trying to make sense of this situation.

Sherlock is looking at the table again as he shrugs, “His motivations doesn’t matter, only facts will help me find him.”

“Yes,” John breathes, “Right.”

“Anything else you remember?”

John thinks for a second, not sure what else there is to say. “Not really, this is pretty helpless, don’t you think?”

Sherlock’s eyes dart back up to him, “It’s a mystery, I like mysteries.”

John smiles, “I’m sure you do. With a mind like yours, it must be quite a challenge each time.”

Sherlock smiles again, nodding slowly and opening his mouth before shaking his head. John wants to ask what he was about to say but remains silent. He’s still not certain he completely understands Sherlock, and somehow, he’s starting to think he’s not supposed to.

“So,” John says instead, checking his watch quickly, “do you have class now?”

Sherlock stares at him for several seconds, “You want to go have lunch.”

John’s smile widens, “Exactly, I know a good place across the street. Hungry?”

Sherlock seems genuinely surprised, “You want to go have lunch, together.”

“That was the idea, yes,” John laughs softly, putting his book back in his bag and standing up. “Coming?”

Sherlock remains sitting for a second longer before getting to his feet. John doesn’t comment on the lack of bag and nods toward the nearest gate to the street. Sherlock is quick to catch up and they walk side by side in silence to the small chinese restaurant. John bites his lower lip as he holds the door open for Sherlock and checks the few free tables before pointing to one towards the window. Sherlock is still not talking as they sit down and open the menu. John already knows what he’s ordering but he gives Sherlock the time to chose silently. He takes advantage of this few seconds to take a longer look at the man. Sure, it was hard to miss the cheekbones, but now there is also that cupid bow and-

“What is it?”

John’s eyes snap back up, “Nothing, I was just-” He stops, not certain he can find a good excuse anyway. He had been staring. “I- Did you choose?”

Sherlock, thank god, lets it go, “Yes, the beef noodle soup.”

“Good one,” John smiles. He takes both menus, “I’ll go order.”

He keeps an eye on Sherlock as he makes his way to the counter, making sure the man isn’t going to disappear on him. Not that John wouldn’t understand after what just happened. But Sherlock only takes out his phone and starts typing rather quickly. John smiles to himself and taps his finger on the counter impatiently. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annabel found this picture and it's absolutely Sherlock in this fic (just missing the curls!) : https://instagram.com/p/BU3py2Whokj/ 
> 
> Thank you!  
> And enjoy this chapter,  
> Pauline.

Sherlock receives his first text from John the morning after their lunch. He hadn’t expected one when they had exchanged their numbers, John insisting they should in case he remembered something about the mysterious kisser. Sherlock hadn’t spent the rest of the day thinking about John’s name in his contact list, or the fact that he had spent an entire lunch with him. Strangely enough, Sherlock had managed to act perfectly normal (or as normal as he could) for the two hours they spent together. 

As expected, John is fascinating. He had talked and talked, asked Sherlock about his deductions and whispered some more _brilliant’s_ and _amazing’s_ after each one Sherlock shared with him. They had parted after Sherlock had promised to find him again once he had more information, and he had watched John walk away with something close to warmth spreading throughout his entire body 

Now, as he lies in bed, sorting through his Mind Palace, Sherlock can’t help but wonder what he’s supposed to do about this mess of a situation. He can just pretend to be looking for someone, that would gain him time with John, but in the end, it wouldn’t change the fact that he’s the one John is looking for.

His text alert startles him, and when he notices John’s name on the screen, all thoughts fade away.

 

**received / 10:23**

_ Skipping class? _

 

Sherlock stares at the text for several seconds. 

 

**sent / 10:24**

_ How do you know? _

 

**received / 10:26**

_ I have spies! _

 

**sent / 10:27**

_ You mean Stamford. _

 

**received / 10:28**

_ Fine, I have one spy… _

 

Sherlock smiles and puts the phone away. Surely John isn’t expecting an answer to that last text. He isn’t sure what the reason was for the first one. Another alert makes him reach for his phone again, rather quickly.

 

**received / 10:32**

_ So, really skipping class then? _

 

**sent / 10:32**

_ I thought we’ve established that, yes. _

 

Sherlock gets up, phone in hands, and pours himself a mug of tea. He hadn’t felt like going to class today, and had tried to convince himself all morning it isn’t because he’s afraid of running into a certain rugby captain. His phone chimes again, and Sherlock brings the mug to his lips as he opens the text. 

 

**received / 10:34**

_ Something you do often then? _

 

Sherlock smiles, fingers typing quickly. 

 

**sent / 10:34**

_ Classes are boring. _

 

**received / 10:36**

_ I guess for you they are, yes! Why did you even register for College? _

 

**sent / 10:37**

_ Free and legal access to labs is a lot harder to find in London than I had expected.  _

 

**received / 10:38**

_ Oh so it’s because of you that Professor White is always monitoring who’s using the labs!  _

 

Sherlock lets out a small laugh, setting the mug down and sitting at his desk. He considers his next reply for a second, not certain what they are doing with all these messages.

 

**sent / 10:40**

_ I only set a fire once, and it was a accident.  _

 

**received / 10:41**

_ I thought that was just a rumor!  _

 

Sherlock is typing his reply when another text arrives.

 

**received / 10:41**

_ The class is beginning, talk to you later. _

 

Sherlock stares at the message for far too long, slowly processing that John had chosen to wait for his class to begin by texting him. He could have chatted, could have read his notes, could have texted anyone, but no, he had picked up his phone and wrote him a message. 

Sherlock sets his phone down and just for a second, allows himself to smile. His tea now forgotten, he reads over the few messages they just exchanged, looking for... well, for anything really. Anything that would make him understand what exactly John is trying to do here. Sherlock had never expected him to actually take an interest in him beside their mutual search, but it seems like John actually cares enough about him that he would send friendly texts after just one lunch and two discussions. 

Is John trying to become his friend then? Does he feel like he should try since he's asking a favor of him? Or does he genuinely want to add Sherlock to his group of friends?

Letting out a deep sigh, Sherlock falls backward on his bed. He shouldn't have met John after he found him at the library. He should have stayed away, should have said no, should have kept the careful distance he had put between them all those months ago. He can't let himself become friends with John, or else he'll be stuck in a situation even worse that the one he's currently in. At least now he can imagine all what if’s and could have been’s without actually knowing what it feels like to have John's focus on him, his smile directed at him and his texts inside his phone. 

"Don't do this," Sherlock murmurs to the quiet room, but his mind is already set on the class John is attending right now and the thirty minutes left before he'll be walking down the G Hallway. If he leaves now, Sherlock can be crossing his path, entirely by luck of course. "Don't."

He's already up and putting on his shoes before he can think twice about it. He ignores the the landlady as he climbs down the stairs, not sure he could put up with her complaints today, and makes another mental note to look for another flat as soon as possible. At least the campus is not far from this one, and with seven minutes left before the end of John's class, Sherlock makes it to the right hallway. He leans against the wall, taking out his phone and fumbling through its contents to stop himself from thinking about what he's doing. 

The sudden clamor of students almost startles him, and he quickly puts his phone back in his pocket. Eyeing the door to John’s class, Sherlock waits patiently for it to open before starting to walk down the hallway. John comes out surrounded by three friends, all of them laughing, his head thrown back and for a second, Sherlock can't seem to remember what the plan was. He lets John go past him, unnoticed, and only when he disappears around the corner does Sherlock realise he was supposed to run into him. 

Cursing himself, Sherlock hurries to leave the Medicine Hall and his steps take him towards the lab in their own volition. He should have known better. He's always been so careful, and it's not like a few texts will change anything. If John wants to keep doing whatever it is he's trying to achieve, then so be it. Sherlock isn't going to intervene, isn't going to let himself hope, isn't going to make any moves. 

Whatever happens next, Sherlock isn't going to let himself fall for John Watson. 


	6. Chapter 6

John stares up at his phone, Sherlock's name shining on the screen, and lets out a deep sigh. He's been lying in bed for hours now, first catching up on his homework but now unable to take his eyes off his phone. It's stupid, and frankly, John should just press the bloody call button and talk to the man, but there's a knot in his chest and his heart pounding in his ears, and John knows all too much what it means. 

It's only been four days, and yet John can't stop thinking about that lunch, or the few texts he dared to send in the days that followed. It feels as if Sherlock is right there and at the same time so far away. John sees him sometimes in the halls, noticing him every time now that he's been made aware of his presence around campus, and each time, he wonders what would Sherlock do if he just popped up to say hi. It's not as if Sherlock has been ignoring him, but he hasn't shown any signs of actually wanting to know more about each other either. 

"A bloody mystery, that's what you are," John says to the name on his phone. 

Fuck. 

John closes his eyes, pushing away all thoughts of Sherlock. He can't do this again, can't start thinking about him all day or he knows how it will end. And for now, John can't seem to be able to picture a happy ending. 

"Mate, are you here?"

John sits back up, looking over at his door just as it opens on Greg and Mike. "I told you he'd be here," Greg smiles, sitting on his desk chair  and throwing a sandwich at him. "What were you up to?"

John shrugs, "Nothing. Tried to work a bit."

Mike sits next to him, eyeing his phone and smiling, “Sure you were.”

“Stop,” John replies, rolling his eyes but not missing the way Greg is smiling now too. 

“Has he found your mysterious kisser yet?” 

John shakes his head, “No, not yet. I’m sure he’s looking, but he hasn’t said anything yet.”

“What do you two talk about then?” Mike asks. “You were texting him the other day, rather a lot if I recall correctly.”

“Can’t I just text someone?” John replies with a sigh, not certain he wants to dwell on the matter right now. He’s not even sure himself what Sherlock is doing to him, and facing the facts right now doesn’t seem like a good idea. “I barely know him, really. All we do is talk about some of his experiments in the campus’ labs.”

“That’s all, really?” Greg asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” John declares. “We had lunch once, and he barely looked at me. I think I was boring him.”

“He does tend to be bored easily,” Mike points out, not helping at all.

John licks his lips, teeth grazing the lower one before finally asking, “You’ve known him long?”

Mike nods, “Two years, yes.”

“Adn has he ever, I don’t know, made friends?”

Greg laughs, “If he talks to people the way he talked to me, I’m not sure he has a lot of those.”

John forces himself not to glare at him, “I found his deductions brilliant.”

“I found them interesting too,” Mike comments. “But as Greg said, he doesn’t have any friends, or at least not at school. He always comes in alone and leaves the same way.”

John nods, looking down at his hand and knowing the next question will send both of his friends speculating, “No girlfriend, then?”

“John, John, John,” Greg sings happily. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“Drop it, Greg,” he replies, glaring at him this time.

Mike chuckles next to him, bumping his shoulder, “No. No girlfriend. Or boyfriend either. But I’ve seen him refuse dates from different students, every single time he was asked.”

John offers him a small smile, not sure what to do with the information. He should have known someone as brilliant as Sherlock would find the rest of them boring and uninteresting. How could he not?

“But hey,” Mike says after a moment, “You could try anyway.”

Greg gets up, coming to join them on the bed, “Does that mean you forgot about that anonymous kisser then?”

“No,” John replies, shaking his head. “No. I still want to find him. I do.”

Greg nods, not commenting. John truly wants to find the man who kissed him, even just to finally know, and since this whole thing with Sherlock seems doomed before it has even started, this mysterious kisser could cheer him up again.

“Don’t overthink it,” Mike finally says. “Sherlock is a nice guy when you take him as he is, and I’m sure you two can be friends.”

John nods, nipping at his lower lip and eyeing his phone once more. The need to call him is even stronger now, even just to hear Sherlock’s voice and find some lame excuse to talk a bit longer.  _ God, I sound ridiculous _ .

“You know what,” Greg says, getting back up, “we should go. If you really want to be friends with this guy, do something about it, now. Before you miss your chance.”

John looks up at him, “Do you really think so?”

Greg nods, “Yeah. You never know.”

“He’s right,” Mike adds, getting to his feet too. “You never know.”

John walks them both to the door, head still full of questions he knows they can’t answer. He remains standing in the doorframe for a long moment, considering following his friends’ advice but finding his hands shaking at the prospect of being rejected entirely by Sherlock. Wouldn’t he have said something already if he didn’t want John in his life? Wouldn’t he have left the texts not concerning the mysterious kisser unanswered? 

“Christ, Watson, get a hold of yourself and just bloody call the man.”

Refusing to think more about it, John hurries to grab his phone and hits the dial button next to Sherlock’s name quickly. He sits back on the bed, leg bouncing as he waits for Sherlock to pick up.

_ “Hello?” _

John jumps to his feet, mouth open in a silent word.

“ _ John? _ ”

“Yes,” he says, all too quickly. “Hi.”

“ _ Hello. Again.” _

John smiles, starting to pace around the room, “How… How are you?”

It takes a moment longer for Sherlock to reply, “ _ I’m fine. Why are you asking?” _

“Just wanted to know,” John says, hitting himself in the head with his free hand.

“ _ That’s why you called, then?” _

“No,” he replies. “No. I called to… to ask about your research. If you had found anything.”

John curses himself silently as Sherlock begins to reply,  _ “I eliminated some potential students, yes. But I haven’t found the right one yet.” _

“So, you think it’s a student then?”

_ “Yes,” _ Sherlock hums. “ _ You said he only came to kiss you, so that means he knows you. It can’t be a complete stranger. Student is the most probable option.” _

“Right,” John says, looking down at his feet, desperately trying to find something else to say. “What about that experiment with ink you’re doing, have you made any progress?”

_ “I did, yes,” _ Sherlock replies.

John nods to the empty room, “I was thinking, maybe we could talk about it over lunch tomorrow, on campus?”

Sherlock is silent on the other line for long seconds.  _ “You want to talk about ink over lunch?” _

John licks his lips nervously, “Yeah, I do.”

_ “I guess we could, yes, _ ” Sherlock finally says, and John lets out a relieved sigh.

“Perfect, so around noon? In the main hall?”

_ “Alright,” _ Sherlock agrees.

“I’ll see you then,” John smiles, feeling all giddy all of the sudden and wanting to hang up before Sherlock can deduce it from his breathing or voice over the phone.

_ “I’ll see you tomorrow, John. _ ”

John waits until Sherlock ends the call before throwing both arms in the air.  _ I’m totally screwed _ , he thinks with a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

John Watson is nothing like Sherlock had expected.

When John had found him for their second lunch together, they had parted almost an hour late into their next class. Sherlock can still remember each movement of John’s lips, eyes and hands during the entire time they spent together, and if he concentrates long enough, he even manages to recall the feeling of their knees brushing under the table. 

For some reason, John now finds him every day and sits next to him at the table for lunch, before asking him about his morning. Sherlock finds himself answering carefully each time, well aware of the questioning eyes on the two of them, and pretends it isn’t making his heart beat just a little faster day after day.

John also texts him, a lot. Often it is about the mysterious kisser, and Sherlock forces himself to reply as simply as he can, not giving out too much but making it seem as if he’s actually looking into it. But more and more, it is just to talk about anything. John is always the first to send a message, but then Sherlock finds it hard not to reply. He answers John’s questions, ignores his ridiculous jokes and even dares to put into words his own interrogations. He’s careful, of course. 

He can’t let it get out of control.

Still, here he is, sitting at John’s favorite table and looking around him worryingly. John is only seven minutes late, and Sherlock isn’t even hungry, but he can’t help but count the seconds as they tick by. Usually he’s always the last one to arrive, John already seated and waiting for him patiently before starting to eat. Sherlock is not sure why he waits exactly since he doesn’t eat himself most of the days, but still, John does and strangely, Sherlock finds it quite fascinating.

His phone chiming brings him back to focus, and he hurries to check it.

 

**Received / 12:08**

Sorry I can’t make it to lunch today. Coach gave us a last minute training.

 

Sherlock sighs, ignoring the pang of disappointment as he replies.

 

**sent / 12:08**

Alright. See you tomorrow then.

 

He just hits send when another text comes in, making his breath catch.

 

**received / 12:08**

You can come and watch if you want, we can eat together after?

 

Sherlock thinks back on all the times he watched John play, hidden in some corner, making sure he couldn’t be noticed by anyone. He wonders what it would be like to actually sit on the bench and truly watch him. 

 

**Received / 12:09**

Yes, sure. See you tomorrow.

 

Sherlock bites his lower lips. He had promised himself not to take any initiative, but John offered first, didn’t he?

 

**Sent / 12:10**

I don’t mind coming and waiting for you.

 

He sets the phone down on the table, already regretting sending the message, but the reply comes almost immediately. Sherlock can’t help but smile as he reads John’s words, twice.

 

**Received / 12:10**

I knew you loved rugby! I’ll wait for you at the field gate.

 

Sherlock is already up and walking away, phone in hand and his heart beating just a little faster. It’s stupid, utterly stupid to feel this way just because of one practice, but he can’t bring himself to care. John had been crashing down all the walls Sherlock had built around him to make sure this situation won’t make everything worse, and by doing so, they had actually began to become friends. It is strange, in many ways really, to actually make a friend, and Sherlock isn’t sure exactly what he’s supposed to either say or do whenever John is around. 

He knows all too well his little secret can’t remain one for much longer, and eventually he’s going to have to tell John that he cannot find his anonymous kisser, or worse. If Sherlock were to listen to the rational part of his brain, he’d turn around and walk back home, forgetting entirely about John Watson and all the promises he might hold. But the thing is, for some unknown reason, Sherlock simply can’t just do that. He’s not sure he’s ready yet to face the reality of the situation.

“Sherlock, over here!”

Sherlock looks up from his feet, finding he’s already by the field and that John is waving at him. He allows himself to smile, feeling something close to happiness as he waves back, almost shyly. 

“Sorry about lunch,” John says again once they’re close enough. 

“It’s alright,” Sherlock shrugs, “I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve barely eaten for the past two lunches we’ve shared,” John replies, shaking his head. “Don’t force me to also have dinner with you just to be sure you’re not starving yourself.”

Sherlock swallows with difficulty, mouth suddenly dry, “I am not.”

“Promise?” John asks, winking at him, and Sherlock has to look away before he makes a fool of himself. “Come on, Mike is watching too.”

Sherlock nods, following promptly and John introduces the players from afar one by one. Sherlock tries to focus on what he’s saying, but there is grass on John’s knees, just under the hem of his shorts, and it seems that Sherlock can’t look away. 

“Hey Mike, do you mind if Sherlock joins you?” 

Sherlock looks back up, watching as Stamford shakes his head and smiles at him, “Not at all. Hi Sherlock.”

“Stamford,” Sherlock greets in return, sitting down next to him.

John remains standing in front of them for a long moment, not saying a word but his lips part as if he is about to. Sherlock waits, not certain what he’s supposed to say either, but then someone is calling John’s name and he turns to wave at his team.

“Gotta go,” he says, looking back at him, and Sherlock nods. “If you need anything, well… I’ll be over there.”

Sherlock doesn’t point out that he doesn’t see what he could ever need, and nods once more as John begins to walk away. He watches him go silently, eyes roaming all over John’s figure slowly. He’s been doing so far too often lately, unable to stop himself from noticing new details about John’s body every day. First, it had been his eyelashes and the way they brush his skin when he blinks. Then, it had been his neck and the way it arches when John throws his head back in laughter. One time Sherlock got stuck on John’s fingers, each and every one of them, wondering what it would feel like to have them pressed against his face, against his chest, against his thighs. 

“So, you’re looking for John’s kisser, right?” Sherlock’s head snaps back toward Mike, looking at him with the same smile on his lips. “He’s obsessed with that, you know.”

“I know,” Sherlock replies carefully.

“I was the one who directed him to you, I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” Sherlock replies.

Mike laughs, “I guess it is, yes. But you two seem to get along.”

Sherlock glances back at John, finding him looking back. “I guess we do, yes.”

“I’m glad,” Mike says, before adding with a small smile. “You know, he was really happy you agreed to come and watch.”

Sherlock looks down at his hands, hoping he isn’t actually blushing and doesn’t reply, not trusting his voice just yet. He always knew Stamford lacked tact and said what crossed his mind without thinking too much about it, and it appears he’s doing the same now. Sherlock forces himself to focus back on the field, refusing to read too much into Stamford’s words. John is yelling at his team, running and Sherlock can see him sweating from here.

Really, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to come and watch.

“What are you doing later tonight?” Mike asks suddenly.

“Why?” Sherlock replies carefully.

“Because we’re going out to eat with Greg and John, and I know John is going to want to ask you to come but won’t do it.”

Sherlock knows for sure that his neck is flushed, his heart beating faster at the implication, “Afraid?”

Mike shrugs, “He’s like that, what can I say…”

Sherlock swallows slowly, about to reply he can’t, because really he can’t just go out with John and his friends and have dinner. He promised himself. No first move on his part. He needs to protect himself from whatever John Watson has planned for him.

“Sherlock, Mike!”

“Good practice, John!” Mike smiles, standing up to pat John’s shoulder, but Sherlock finds John’s eyes fixed on him when he looks up. “Sherlock was saying he might come with us tonight,” Mike continues.

“Oh, really? That’d be awesome!” John says, his entire face lighting up.

Sherlock allows himself to breathe out deeply before saying, “Yes. I’ll think about it.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Oh for God’s sake, John,” Greg sighs for the twelfth time. “It’s just dinner John, not even a date!”

John throws another t-shirt on the floor, “Of course it is you bloody idiot!”

“Oi, don’t talk to me like that, I’m just saying, that’s all!”

“Sorry,” John sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “If you two managed to notice my stupid crush, there is no way Sherlock hasn’t!”

“It’s not a stupid crush,” Mike replies, eating another biscuit from John’s plate. “And besides, he didn’t seem to mind the invitation.”

John turns to look at him, “You think? I can’t read him, he’s always so mysterious!”

Greg snorts, “Talking about mysterious, it’s official now, you’ve given up on finding who kissed you?”

John shrugs, “I guess, yeah. I mean, I’d like to know, but I haven’t really been thinking about it lately.”

“Have you told Sherlock?” Mike asks.

“No,” John replies with a shake of head. “I mean, it’s the reason why we started talking, and to be honest, I’m afraid he’ll just stop hanging up with me if I told him I don’t even care about that kiss anymore.”

John lets himself fall onto his bed, letting out another loud sigh and raising both arms in the air, “I’m so fucked!”

Greg starts laughing, poking him in the head, “You do realise you met Sherlock like what, a week ago?”

“Ha ha,” John snorts. 

“What if Greg and I suddenly can’t go to tonight’s dinner?” Mike suggests, smiling.

“Oh, yes,” Greg replies just as John sits back up, shaking his head.

“No, no, no! You can’t do this to me!”

“You’re already thinking of tonight as a date,” Mike replies. “So why not let it be one.”

“Sherlock is going to notice, I’ll be so screwed, he’ll leave,” John says, unable to stop himself from panicking. 

“You can do this,” Greg reassures him, placing both hands on his shoulders and forcing him to focus. “This Sherlock guy is into you, Mike said so. So just flirt with him, make those looks of yours at him and he’ll fall into your arms!”

“What looks of mine?” John frowns, laughing.

“You know very well what I’m talking about,” Greg winks, standing up and waving at Mike to do the same. “Come on, let’s go grab some takeaway and watch a movie at my place!”

John watches in disbelief as they both head to the door, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Greg calls before closing the door behind him.

John stares at his empty room for a long moment, considering sending a text to Sherlock to cancel their dinner entirely. He really should, because there is no way he’s going to be able to keep his intentions towards Sherlock at bay for an entire meal spent just the two of them. He’s already lucky enough that Sherlock agreed to become his friend, at or least what seemed like the beginning of a friendship, and he can’t just ruin it in one evening.

But then, it’s Sherlock bloody Holmes and if there is even the slightest chance for  _ more _ , well then he isn’t going to miss it.

_ First things first, I need to get dressed _ .

Refusing to panic any longer, John goes for the first shirt he sees and puts it on quickly. He’s supposed to be in town in less than twenty minutes, and he can’t make Sherlock wait. This evening has to be perfect, more than perfect even, and coming in late isn’t the way to do it. Checking himself one last time in the mirror, John heads out without letting himself think twice about what this evening could bring.

As planned, he arrives first at the small restaurant Greg had chosen, stating that the food is absolutely marvelous. John remains outside, teeth worrying at his lip as he waits for Sherlock to show up. It occurs to him that he actually might end up eating alone tonight, that Sherlock is going to cancel at the last minute or just forget he had said yes at all in the first place. But then there is the familiar long coat and dark mop of curls walking toward him, and for just a second, John forgets how to breathe.

“You’re alone,” Sherlock points out as soon as he’s close enough.

“Yeah,” John replies, clearing his throat. “Mike and Greg couldn’t make it.

Sherlock studies him for a long moment, silent, and John hopes to god he isn’t blushing or betraying himself in any way.

“Want to go in?” He finally asks, nodding towards the door. Sherlock is still silent for a second more, and John realises he’s going to take off, finding  some good excuse to do so. “The food is really good, apparently,” he adds, stupidly trying to make him stay.

Sherlock arches an eyebrow, “Alright then. Let’s go in.”

John lets out a sigh of relief, quiet breath, and holds the door open for Sherlock.  _ Ok, now let’s make this a date without being too obvious _ , he thinks, following Sherlock inside. Their waiter leads them to their table, and John sits down quickly, watching as Sherlock takes off his coat.  _ Fuck. _ Of course, John had noticed just how gorgeous the man is, but with that blue shirt exposing his neck like that, there is no chance John is going to be able to stop staring. 

“I’ll let you look at menu and I’ll be back,” the waiter anounces before leaving them, and John promptly looks down at his menu. 

He can feel Sherlock’s stare on him, and with his throat dry and heart pounding, John allows himself to look up again. “Have you chosen already?” He asks, his own voice sounding weak even to himself. 

Sherlock shakes his head, eyes darting down at the menu. “Tomato Pasta.”

John smiles, tongue wetting his lower lip, “You like Italian food then?”

“I once helped the owner of an Italian restaurant with a murder charge,” Sherlock explains. “I tend to eat at Angelo’s often now.”

“Maybe next time we could go there, then,” John offers, only realising now the implication his reply holds. He watches as Sherlock’s eyes fall back to his plate, and there is no doubt who is blushing now. John smiles, a private smile he tries to hide, and focuses back on his own menu. “How did you help him, the owner?”

Sherlock looks back up, their eyes meeting and John finds himself smiling even more. He’s sitting with a beautiful man on what could be a date, and even if it’s not, John intends to make the best of this evening. Just as Sherlock is about to reply, the waiter comes back and they place their orders quickly, Sherlock already going into the details of the triple murder of an entire family and how he managed to prove that Angelo was robbing a house on the other side of town at the time.

John immediately asks more about that murder, and by the time both their meals arrive, Sherlock is explaining just how the brother in law had managed to make it all look like a collective suicide. “He should have covered his trace, in the end, it was all so very boring.”

“Boring?” John asks, laughing. “Sounds amazing to me! You get to solve crimes and arrest people!”

“The Yard takes care of the arresting part,” Sherlock corrects him, “but yes, it can be quite fascinating the way humans work in their darkest nature.”

John smiles, taking another sip of his water and asking, “Have you always wanted to be a detective?”

“At first I,” Sherlock begins before shaking his head, looking a bit flushed.

“What?” John asks.

“At first,” Sherlock begins again, fidgeting with his fork, “I wanted to be a pirate. My brother, Mycroft, had to deal with being captured all the time when we were children.”

John stares, and stares some more, “A pirate?”

Sherlock nods, eyes meeting his for the briefest second, “Yes.”

John laughs again, having no trouble picturing a younger Sherlock with a sword and a hat. He catches Sherlock smiling too, and for a moment, John wonders what he would say if he were just to slide their feet together under the table.

“And you,” Sherlock asks, “Always wanted to be a doctor?”

“Yeah,” John replies. “I thought about joining the army back when I didn’t know how to pay for medical school, but with rugby, I don’t have to anymore.”

Sherlock looks at him for a long moment, “Good.”

“Yeah,” John breathes, looking back at his empty plate. “Do you want to order dessert?”

“No,” Sherlock replies with a shake of head. “I wasn’t very hungry, but it was really nice.”

“Yes, it was,” John smiles, and he doesn't mean just the food.

Sherlock smiles at him, not looking away this time, and John almost reaches out for him. Almost.

“How about we walk home?” John offers, now desperately wanting to be alone with Sherlock, far from the noise of the restaurant.

“You live thirty minutes from here, John,” Sherlock replies, but he’s already reaching for his coat.

“I’ll walk you home then,” John says, refusing to meet Sherlock’s eyes. “And then, I’ll take a cab back to mine.”

He half expects Sherlock to protest and say they both should take a cab from here, but he remains silent, leaving some cash on the table by the note. John doesn’t offer to pay for the both of them, knowing it would be too much, but promises himself to do so next time. 

When they’re both certain it’s a date.


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock is in love.

There is no denying it. Not anymore. Not after being walked home by John Watson and having wondered whether he would get kissed or not by his door. He hadn’t been able to think about anything else the entire way back home, unable to focus on anything else but John’s hand brushing his from time to time and the way they both seemed to lean toward the other unconsciously. 

The truth is, Sherlock hasn’t been able to think about anything else for the past three days.

John had called, five times, and texted much more often than usual, and of course they had continued to eat together at every lunch. Sherlock tries to control himself, to keep the feelings he can’t ignore anymore to himself and does his best to make John believe he’s searching for this mysterious kisser. There are times when he’s certain John is flirting, times when there’s absolutely no doubt. John’s feet brush his under the table far too many times to be accidental. But then, there are the times where reality comes crashing back on Sherlock. He is John’s mysterious kisser, and there isn’t a chance this situation can end well for either of them.

And yet, Sherlock’s entire body is shaking with anticipation as he arrives at John’s door. He stops, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes for just a second. An evening, that’s all John asked. An evening to make him watch the James Bond movie everyone needed to see, and then Sherlock could go back home and pretend he hadn’t thought of John’s lips the entire time.

“Sherlock?” John’s voice echoes from the other side of the door. “Is that you?” 

Sherlock is about to reply when the door opens, John smiling at him widely, “I thought I heard something! Come in!”

Sherlock steps inside with a nod and a smile, taking in John’s room with one look. He can’t remember the number of times he’s imagined what these four walls would hide, and now that he’s here, he’s not sure what to memorize first.

“I ordered some takeaway, it should be here soon,” John says, both hands in his pockets, looking nervous all of a sudden.

“Do you never cook for yourself?” Sherlock asks, not sure why exactly, but it makes John laugh, and he hides his own smile.

“I do,” John replies, much more relaxed. “I’ll cook for you one day, a proper meal.” Sherlock looks back up, finding John’s eyes fixed on him with something close to a promise in them. “But for now, let’s watch this movie!”

“I really don’t understand why I have to watch it,” Sherlock says, following John toward the bed. “It’s just a movie.”

“No, no, no,” John replies, shaking his head. “It’s much more than that.” He points to the bed, “You can sit down, I only have the bed.

Sherlock smiles, sitting with his back against the headframe and staring at his shoes, “I should take them off.”

John looks back at him, laughing quietly. “You’d be more comfortable.”

Sherlock removes them quickly, sitting back and watching as John readies his computer. He’s never done this before, never sat on someone’s else bed and simply watched a movie. Actually, he can’t remember the last time he took the time to watch anything. He has been too engrossed in his last experiment to think about anything else, and well, John had started to take up most of the space inside his head. 

“We can start the movie and pause it when the food arrives,” John offers, and Sherlock nods, not sure what to reply exactly. “Alright, then. Do you want anything to drink first?”

Sherlock shakes his head, his throat dry and hands shaking as John climbs onto the bed and sits next to him. He moves around for a moment before going still, and then there is nothing Sherlock can do except learn how to breathe again. John’s thigh is warm, pressed against his, and his breathing so very quiet. Sherlock tries his best to focus on the movie, to understand what the man on screen is saying, and with a silent sigh, he lets his eyes flutter closed for a second.

“Are you alright?” John asks right away, betraying his own interest in the movie in doing so, and Sherlock can’t suppress a smile.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he breathes.

“We don’t have to actually watch it you know,” John smiles, forcing Sherlock to look at him. “It was just an excuse, really.”

Sherlock feels himself blush, and he promptly looks back to the screen. 

“Sorry,” John whispers, “I didn’t mean to…”

He doesn’t finish, and Sherlock finds himself hoping he did. This is getting too close, too dangerous. He needs to put an end to whatever hope John is having.  _ Christ _ , he should never have come in the first place.

“I’ve found three different potential students,” he says, a knot in his chest. 

John remains silent for a long moment, “Oh.”

“I can arrange a meeting with them tomorrow,” Sherlock continues, refusing to look at John. “If you’re still interested.”

“Yeah,” John replies, “Sure, I could…”

John is looking back at screen now too, and Sherlock tries his best to ignore the voice in his head telling him to stop this nonsense once and for all. He can’t let John know. It only means he’ll know about the lying too, and Sherlock isn’t sure he could bear to witness it. 

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” John suddenly asks, and Sherlock nearly chokes on his own breath.

“Why are you asking?” he manages to reply after a moment.

John shrugs, “I don’t know. We’ve been talking for a while about who I kissed, but I never asked about who you kissed.”

“Isn’t it something people like to keep to themselves?”

John glances at him, “You’re not most people.”

Sherlock stares back at him, silent.  _ Yes _ , he thinks.  _ I’ve kissed you, and I can’t seem to be able to think about anything else ever since. I want to do it again. I don’t understand why it bothers me so much, why I can’t even think about you kissing someone else without feeling this anger build low in my chest. I want to kiss you now, before you can say anything else, before you can understand the things I’ve been keeping from you. _

“Yes,” Sherlock simply says. “I have.”

John remains silent, looking at him and still all too close. “Sherlock,” he whispers. “When I asked if you wanted to come watch a movie with me, I was asking you on a date. I’m sorry if I didn’t make it obvious enough.”

“A date?” Sherlock finds himself asking despite having known, deep down, the entire time.

“Yes,” John replies, eyes still fixed on him, and Sherlock has never found him more beautiful. “I like you, rather a lot actually, and I’d like to date you. If that’s what you want too, of course.”

“I…” Sherlock begins just as John’s phone starts to ring. They both look at it, falling silent, and Sherlock gets to his feet before he does something stupid. “I should go.”

“Wait,” John protests, standing up and forgetting about his phone entirely. “I’m sorry if I went too far, we can just forget about it.”

“I really should g-” 

John takes a step forward, now standing so very close and Sherlock loses the ability to speak for a second. It could be so easy, just to lean in and let their lips meet again. All too easy.

John’s phone rings again.

“Goodbye, John,” Sherlock murmurs, forcing himself to turn around and leave the room.

John doesn’t follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angst, I promise, it won't last long!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is shorter than the other, but I promise the next one will make a lot of you very happy ;)

John can’t move.

How has he not noticed before? Sherlock had been right there, standing next to him, sitting next to him, breathing, laughing, smiling next to him and all the while, John had been blind to the now obvious truth. Sherlock Holmes, his anonymous kisser, betrayed in the end by his cologne. 

Letting out a choked laugh, John stares at the door Sherlock just closed, setting a distance between the two of them. One he isn’t sure they can cross anymore. God, he should have known. Of course someone as brilliant as Sherlock would make sure John won’t find out who kissed him. It’s the perfect plan, to look for himself and therefore never find anyone. The perfect plan to make sure John will never know. The perfect plan for someone who didn’t want to be found.

Because that’s it, right? Sherlock doesn’t want to be found. From the very beginning, he made sure to kiss him when he was certain John would not know it was him. He had been so careful, leaving just at the right moment and choosing to remain anonymous despite John looking for him for two weeks. And even when John had found him, had asked him to help him, even then, Sherlock had covered his track and made sure he would never find out.

Sherlock had kissed him but that was it. Just once, and he had made sure it would not happen again.

“I’m such an idiot,” John tells to the quiet room.  _ Such an idiot _ . With the flirting and smiling and teasing, all this time thinking he could actually turn this friendship into more while Sherlock was just trying to remain anonymous. 

Realising the movie is still playing, John goes to shut his computer down quickly. He needs to get out, needs to calm down or else he’ll do something stupid. He can’t chase after Sherlock. He owes him some peace, some free space after trying to actually date him! “Fuck”, John curses, slamming his fist on his desk. “I’m ruining everything.”

Grabbing his phone with maybe too much strength, John dials the first number he can think off, waiting only a few seconds before Greg picks up,

“ _ John!” _

“Where are you?” John asks immediately. 

He can hear music and laughing over Greg’s voice. “ _ The party, remember? The one you didn’t come to because you had a date!” _

“I’m coming.”

Greg hesitates for a second, “ _ Sherlock didn’t show up _ ?”

“He did,” John replies, closing his eyes. “He left.”

There is another moment of silence, only punctuated by more music. “ _ Oh, sorry mate.” _

“It’s fine,” John says, not sure he could talk about it now anyway. “I’ll be here soon.”

_ “No way, _ ” Greg breathes before laughing. “ _ John, when did Sherlock leave?” _

“What?” John frowns. 

_ “When did Sherlock leave your dorm? _ ”

“I don’t know, maybe ten minutes ago!”

Greg laughs again, “ _ Well, he definitely found his way to this party!” _

“What are you talking about?” 

_ “Sherlock _ ,” Greg repeats, a little louder. “ _ He’s here. Just arrived, and he’s already dancing! Christ, he’s a good dancer!" _

John is hanging up before he can stop himself, grabbing his keys and going for the door in less than a second. He’s not thinking straight anymore. Sherlock doesn’t get to just walk away and then just go dancing at some party.  _ No _ . They have to talk about this. John has to make him understand, to show Sherlock that even without knowing he was his mysterious kisser, John still managed to start falling in love with him in less than two bloody weeks. 

In just five minutes, John makes his way to the dorm two streets down from his own, the music already too loud and some drunk students hanging outside. He passes by them without a word, not bothering to look for Greg anywhere and going directly to the mass of bodies dancing in the middle of the room. 

It only takes a second to find Sherlock, and John loses all capacity to breathe instantly. Eyes closed, arms in the air, body swaying to the music, Sherlock is absolutely stunning, lost in the middle of the crowd and yet standing out among everyone else. Of course, John isn’t the only one to have noticed, and already two students are dancing rather closely to him. If Sherlock seems clueless of what’s happening around him, it makes John’s blood boil and his head spin all too fast. 

He has to go.  _ No _ . He has to do something. He can’t just stand there, can’t just watch. He has to try, has to trust all the small signs that gave Sherlock’s attraction to him away for the past two weeks. He has to believe there’s maybe the slightest chance Sherlock is just as afraid of his own feelings. 

Breathing in deeply, John makes his way to him.


	11. Chapter 11

The music's too loud, the students too drunk and the bodies around him too close, but Sherlock forces himself to close his eyes and remain where he is. This party is everything he despises and exactly what he needs right now.  _ John didn’t follow him.  _ It’s as simple as that. John didn’t follow him, and Sherlock isn’t going to let just one person make his whole world crash down. He only needs to forget about him, to forget about that kiss, to forget about the warmth, comfortable feeling of John’s body next to his. 

He only needs to make sure that single kiss doesn’t remain so any longer, and then…Then he can finally  _ think _ again. 

Sherlock frowns as a adventurous hand lands on his hip, moving higher slowly before pulling him toward another body. He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t let himself deduce more than what he can already tell of this stranger pressing them closer together. That’s what he needs. A complete stranger to make himself forget about anything else. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” a voice purrs into his ear, and Sherlock holds back a sigh of disgust.

_ It’s just for this time _ , he tells himself.  _ Just to let him go _ .

“I’m going to make you feel so go-”

Sherlock jumps as the body behind him is being pulled away rather harshly. He barely has the time to understand what is happening before there’s someone else taking the stranger’s place, and it only takes a second for Sherlock to realise who it is exactly. He stops dancing, stops breathing, stops thinking, and John remains just as still behind him. They’re pressed from head to toe, John’s breath hot against his neck, and his hands carefully holding him by the waist. 

“Is this alright?” John asks, his lips brushing Sherlock’s ear. “I can go, you only need to tell me.”

Sherlock inhales sharply, his lungs on fire as he breathes out, “No. Stay.”

Another eternity passes before John starts undulating their hips slowly, and Sherlock lets his eyes flutter back closed. He focuses on each point of contact between them, and wonders once again what it would feel like to have John’s body pressed against his own, naked and  _ his _ .

“There’s something I need to tell you,” John continues, each word caressing Sherlock’s skin. “I should have told you sooner, but I was too scared of ruining what we were slowly building together. You said it yourself. I’m an idiot.”

Sherlock smiles, the noise around slowly fading as John’s voice becomes only sound he can focus on.

“When I first found you, I couldn’t stop talking about that kiss. It was all I could think about, day and night. I didn’t understand why, it was just a kiss after all, but something had happened in that cabin, and I couldn’t just let it go.”

“John,” Sherlock says, not sure whether he can still lie about it all.

“Please, let me finish,” John replies, pressing them impossibly closer together, and Sherlock nods. “But then you were here, and all of the sudden, you were all I could think about. From the moment I found you in the library, even though you walked away quickly, I was waiting for you to appear out of nowhere just so I could see you, talk to you, be with you.” 

Sherlock feels him exhale deeply against his nape, “Christ, I thought only kids managed to feel so strongly about someone in just a few days. And yet, I couldn’t stop wondering if it wasn’t either too early or too late to text you, if you’d agree to eat with me again or even just talk to me. I was so bloody obvious but it seems that you saw none of it.”

_ I couldn’t let myself, _ Sherlock thinks, wishing John could hear.  _ I couldn’t let myself hope. _

“I meant what I said, Sherlock. I want to date you, I want to be your friend but also the person who can love you without restraint. I want more than just sitting next to each other on my bed while we watch a movie. I want to be able to take your hand and lace our fingers together. I want to have your head pressed against my chest, and my hands threaded into your curls.”

_ Yes _ , Sherlock wants to say.  _ Yes, yes, yes. _

“But most of all, Sherlock,” John continues, his lips brushing Sherlock’s neck. “Most of all, I want to kiss you again.”

Sherlock freezes, his entire body tensing, and he feels John slide both hands down his hips to make him turn around. Time seems to go by so very slowly as they finally face each other, and the smile on John’s lips makes something warm spread throughout Sherlock’s chest. 

“I understand if it was just a one time kiss for you,” John says, eyes fixed on his. “I truly do, and we can both forget about what I just said. But if you wish for just as more as I do, then I’d really like to kiss you and be able to see you this time.”

Sherlock closes his eyes, fearing for a second he might let a tear escape. He can still feel John’s stare on him, their bodies still pressed together, and the promise for more hanging in the air. “Yes,” he finally breathes out, laughing lightly without being able to control it. “Yes,” he says again, looking back at John and watching the smiling lines around his eyes slowly form. 

John raises one hand to his face, cupping it gently, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Sherlock finds himself repeating, nodding.

It’s John’s turn to laugh, the sound filling Sherlock’s head despite the music, and he almost,  _ almost _ , leans in to taste it. With John’s thumbs slowly stroking his cheek, Sherlock lets himself believe this is truly happening.

“Not here,” John says, all too serious. “I want to be able to feel, to hear all of you.”

_ I am in love with you _ , Sherlock thinks as he lets John thread their fingers together, slowly pulling away only to lead them both to the door.  _ I am in love with you, John Watson, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now. _


	12. Chapter 12

The cold air makes John shiver, his entire body shaking with both anticipation and excitement. He’s not sure what happened exactly, or what he ever did to deserve holding this brilliant man’s hand in his, but here is he is. About to kiss Sherlock Holmes. Again.

“You’re laughing,” Sherlock points out, holding on tightly to his hand. 

John stops, not knowing exactly where they’re going anyway, and pulls on their joined fingers, “I’m feeling ridiculously happy right now, that might explain it.” Sherlock stares at him for a long moment, his own lips curling into a smile, and John resists the urge to pull him down for a kiss. 

“I think I’m feeling just the same,” Sherlock finally breathes out, the words almost whispered.

“Sherlock,” John murmurs, taking a step closer and breathing the moment in, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Sherlock looks down, the grip around John’s hand loosening. “I’m not angry,” John adds quickly. “I’d just like to understand, because you see, for a moment, I thought it was because you had only wanted to kiss me once and then forget about it. For a moment, I thought you were just making sure I would never find out it was you, that it was the only reason you agreed to become my fr-”

“No,” Sherlock stops him, shaking his head and staring back up at him. “No.”

John smiles, letting out a relieved sigh, “Good,” he says, laughing nervously, “because I would have just made a fool of myself for no reason.”

“You didn’t,” Sherlock says, casting a quick look around them. “And as for the reason why I never said anything, I’d rather explain it all somewhere a bit more private.”

Only then does John realise they’ve stopped in the middle of the street, still too close to the dorm, and more and more students are gathering in the street for some fresh air. “Yeah, come on, I do want that kiss after all.” Sherlock looks away, blushing, and really, there isn’t much John can do to stop himself from leaning in, kissing his cheek softly. “I really, really do,” he whispers, Sherlock’s eyes back on him.

“Your room is closer than my flat but it lacks of the privacy my flat can give us. If we run, we can be there in less than fifteen minutes, but if we take a cab, we can make it there in seven,” Sherlock says, almost too quickly for John to understand any of it. 

“Are you asking me to come to your flat, Sherlock Holmes?” He asks, teasing.

“I’m asking you much more than that,” Sherlock replies, determination in his eyes now, and John feels a pang of arousal low in his belly.

“Let’s find a cab,” John breathes, “now.”

Sherlock’s smile widens and in less than a minute, he manages to hail a cab and they both settle inside quickly. John doesn’t let go of him, not just yet, and they’re pressed from shoulder to thigh. Sherlock’s body seems to hold more promise than ever, and John closes his eyes, breathing out deeply. 

“The first time I saw you,” Sherlock says suddenly, forcing John to look back at him. “You had just transferred here. You were searching for your class, asking students around you and almost asked me. I was walking to the lab, and for some reason, I stopped the moment I noticed you. I’m still not sure why, but for a moment, I found myself hoping you would ask me for directions.” Sherlock glances at him, a small smile on his lips. “You didn’t. You walked past me and disappeared down some hallway.”

“How did I not see you? It’s been more than a year now.” 

“I might have been avoiding you,” Sherlock confesses, his thumbs stroking John’s hand softly.

“But you kissed me,” John says, still baffled by the simple and yet breathtaking fact. “You came to that cabin and you kissed me.”

Sherlock sighs, teeth grazing his lower lip, “You have to understand, I had no idea I was going to do it before I was actually opening that door. You were standing there, and I had been thinking about… this for a long time and I stupidly thought it would allow me to move on and forget about you once and for all.”

John’s eyes drop to Sherlock’s mouth as he murmurs, “It didn’t work.”

Sherlock shakes his head slowly, his lips parting, and John licks his own. “John,” he breathes.

“We’re here, mates,” the driver calls, making them both jump, and John realises just how close they are now. 

He pulls away, handing the driver his money with his free hand before pulling Sherlock out of the cab quickly. They linger on the pavement for a long moment, still holding on to each other, and Sherlock glances up at the building behind them, “Do you still want to come in?”

John smiles, wondering when exactly he had fallen in love with this beautiful, brilliant man, “Yes, I do.” Sherlock blushes again, squeezing his hand. “Do you?”

Sherlock slips one hand in his pocket, pulling out his key and leading them both to the front door. They fall silent. John lets Sherlock guide him in, then to the top of the stairs and into the flat without exchanging a single word. John takes the time to take in the sitting room, each book’s title and experimental equipment making him smile. Sherlock is still next to him, barely breathing, and he gently strokes his thumb across his palm.

“I’d been wanting to kiss you long before I realised you were my anonymous kisser, Sherlock Holmes,” he breathes, pressing them closer together. 

Using his free hand to cup his face, John raises himself just a little higher, letting Sherlock lean in and close the remaining distance between them slowly. It’s only a touch at first, just like the first time, barely a brush of lips, and John can’t help but remember what he felt like back then. Smiling, he pulls away just enough to nuzzle their noses together, feeling each shiver running through them both.

Sherlock exhales loudly against his lips before seeking them again, almost daring him to give him a proper kiss, and John presses in. He lets their lips part and meet again, slowly giving Sherlock time to relax into the kiss. “You can touch me,” he breathes, smiling against his lips.

He feels Sherlock’s hand holding to his shirt, as if to keep him close, and John leans for another kiss, letting Sherlock take charge this time. He doesn’t have to wait long before his lower lip is being sucked between Sherlock’s, tentatively at first, and John moans softly. It seems that Sherlock was only waiting for that, suddenly growing bolder and letting his tongue trace John’s upper lip slowly. 

Then, John gets lost into Sherlock’s taste entirely. 


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock resists the urge to pinch himself as John leads them both to the sofa, their lips still sealed and his every sense on fire. He should have known that kissing John again would feel entirely different now that they were friends, now that he knew they both wanted this, needed this. Even if he will probably need a few days to let himself believe this is truly happening, Sherlock intends to make this moment count in every sense of the term.

“Just as brilliant as the first time” John breathes, smiling as they both sit down.

“You did said my technique was bad,” Sherlock replies, making sure John isn’t sitting too far from him. 

John laughs, stealing another kiss from his lips, “Was I right, then? Was it your first kiss?” Sherlock nods, unable to form the words, and John rubs their noses together. “You’re a quick learner, even back then."

“I was certain I would only get one kiss,” Sherlock confesses.

“I was supposed to give you just one, yeah,” John smiles, “But I couldn’t help myself, I had to kiss you again.”

Sherlock stares into his eyes, trying to find the answers there to the thousands of questions filling his head. “Why?”

“Like I said before,” John begins, settling back against the sofa, and Sherlock presses them back together, resting his head against his neck. “When you kissed me, I immediately felt how unsure you were and I told myself I couldn’t just let you go after barely a touch of lips. So I kissed you again, and then there was no way I could stop even if I wanted to.”

“You moaned,” Sherlock breathes, barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” John laughs. “I did.”

“You really liked it.”

John pulls away, looking down at him, “I spent two weeks looking for you after that kiss, I couldn’t get you out of my head. And then you were actually here and I had no idea you were the one I was looking for, but it didn’t matter because once again, I couldn’t get  _ you _ out of my head.”

Sherlock holds on to John’s shirt, pulling him down just enough to kiss him again, wishing they could somehow do this for hours and hours. Just the two of them, on this sofa for as long as possible.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Sherlock whispers, and John sighs silently, giving him the time to explain. “I think I was afraid. I thought you would hate me for having lied to you, that you wouldn’t want to remain my friend. I lay awake in bed for hours that first time you found me, wondering what to do. But it seems that when it comes to you, I can’t help myself. I had to lie, even if it meant I would only ever be your friend. And I know it’s illogical because our friendship wouldn’t have lasted, it couldn’t have, but I couldn’t do anything else. Every time you called, every time you texted, it felt like a trap was closing around me.”

“Hey,” John breathes out, smiling down at him, “It’s alright.”

Sherlock realises he’s breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his ears, and he clings on to John, nuzzling his face against his neck. “I had no idea what it would be like to be your friend. I wanted to kiss you, all the time.”

He feels John kiss his temple, “I wanted to kiss you too. I’m not sure I can explain it, not yet, but you managed to take all the space in my head in so little time. I never thought I could fall for someone so quickly, but here I am, wondering if I’m dreaming or not because you feel absolutely amazing and I don’t ever want to move again.”

“I know for a fact we’re not dreaming,” Sherlock replies, smiling against John’s skin.

“Good,” John says, his own smile obvious. 

They fall silent, simply breathing in the other, and Sherlock fears for a moment he might actually fall asleep. He can’t, not now, he hasn’t discovered yet all there is to know about John.

“Don’t fight it,” John murmurs.

Sherlock sighs, “I don’t want to sleep. I want to…”

John holds him tighter, “We have all the time in the world to discover each other, Sherlock. There is still so much we need to talk about, and to be completely honest, I only want to fall asleep tonight knowing you’re right here next to me.”

Sherlock pulls away, “You’re staying?”

“If you want me to,” John smiles, brushing their lips together. 

“Yes,” Sherlock breathes, allowing himself to ask for what he’s been wanting for too long. “I want you to.”

John kisses him deeply at that, letting their tongues meet again before leaving Sherlock breathless and panting, “Come on, then, let’s go to bed.”

Sherlock guides them both up and to his bedroom, only realising then that John hasn’t got any spare clothes for the night, or even tomorrow. He turns, about to say they should maybe do this another night, when they have time to be truly ready, but John shakes his head slowly, “Greg lives just down the street, I’ll ask him to bring me something tomorrow.”

“How do you know he will?” Sherlock frowns.

John smiles, “Trust me, he’ll be pleased to do it!” Sherlock doesn’t have the time to ask why before he’s being kissed again. “I’ll let you change,” John says, sealing their lips together one last time before leaving the room.

Sherlock looks around, wondering for a moment if he should put away the experiments lying here and there, but deciding against it. He can’t remember the last time he felt so tired, and the prospect of falling asleep next to John only encourages him to quickly change into his night clothes. By the time John comes back, wearing only his shirt and pants now, Sherlock is already under the covers, feeling suddenly much more shy about the prospect of it all.

“Alright?” John asks, stopping by the bed.

“Yes,” Sherlock breathes, watching as he lies next to him.

They don’t move for a long moment, and when John’s hand slowly finds his, Sherlock lets out a loud sigh. He snuggles close immediately, knowing John had probably imagined something else entirely about their first night sharing a bed, but finding he doesn’t have the courage to talk about it right now. 

_ Soon _ , he thinks as John’s lips find his temple in a goodnight kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say there won't be a chapter tomorrow, I've been very busy with work lately!  
> If I manage, I'll post two chapter at the same time on Wednesday!!
> 
> Edit 2:  
> Sorry again, life happened, and I don't think I'll be able to post anything until Saturday...  
> I'll do my best, and thank you again for all the kudos and comments :)


	14. Chapter 14

John wakes up warm and pliant, his chest pressed to Sherlock’s back and their legs so tangled together it takes him a moment to find out whose are whose. He doesn’t open his eyes yet, enjoying the few minutes of blessed silence, the two of them wrapped around each other and the promise for so much more hanging in the air above them. It takes another long second before he realises how hard he is, his erection trapped against Sherlock’s lower back, and his eyes snap open.

_ Fuck _ , he thinks, wishing he could somehow move without waking up Sherlock. If yesterday was only his second kiss, there is no chance he has engaged in any sexual acts yet. The last thing John wants is to rush things, to let Sherlock believe he expects more of him now. He meant what he said before falling asleep, they had all the time in the world.

Remaining as silent as possible, John begins to remove the arm circling Sherlock’s waist.

“Stay,” Sherlock whispers. 

John closes his eyes, feeling more embarrassed than ever, “Sherlock, I-”

“Don’t,” Sherlock cuts in. “I don’t mind.”

John opens his mouth, ready to tell him what he was just thinking about, but Sherlock presses himself closer against him, and John has to bite down on his lower lip to prevent a moan from coming out. He can’t remember the first time he dreamt about Sherlock’s naked body underneath his own, but it seems he can’t stop thinking about it now.  _ Christ _ , the man is absolutely gorgeous, and John has no doubt he must be even more beautiful when lost in pleasure. But it doesn’t change the fact that they need to talk about the whole of it first, and John intends to do things right. 

“Sherlock,” he breathes, leaving the ghost of a kiss on his nape, “I need to move.”

Sherlock shakes his head slowly, one hand moving to cup John’s on his stomach and guiding it much, much lower. This time John is unable to repress a quiet sigh when he feels Sherlock’s own erection trapped inside his pajama pants, and he quickly moves both of their hands away. He feels Sherlock’s fingers tighten around his.

“I thought you…” Sherlock begins before stopping, letting out a loud sigh.

“No, no,” John replies quickly. “You’re the one doing this to me, that’s a fact.” He feels more than he hears Sherlock breathe out slowly. “But yesterday was only your second kiss, and this is much more, don’t you think?”

“It doesn’t mean I’m such a fragile little thing,” Sherlock says, sounding almost offended, and John laughs softly.

“I know you’re not,” he smiles, kissing his neck again. “But we can’t just rush into it.”

Sherlock sighs again, not turning around, and John realises he must be more comfortable talking about it this way. Not having to face him, not just yet.

“I’ve thought about it,” Sherlock says in a murmur. “About you.”

“Yeah?” John asks in a breath.

Sherlock nods, “Yes. And  _ this _ happened before.”

John thinks about his next words carefully, “But not with someone else present?”

“No,” Sherlock whispers after a long moment.

John attaches his lips to Sherlock’s skin again, breathing him in. “You know I don’t mind, right?” Sherlock shivers, not saying a word. “Do you want to tal-”

“I touched myself while thinking about you,” Sherlock cuts in, much bolder all of the sudden, and John allows him to get it out. “Even before I kissed you.” John tries his best to hide his surprise, lips still brushing Sherlock’s nape and shoulder. “I couldn’t explain it, this constant need to cross your path, to know more about you, to find a way to talk to you. It felt as if you were inside my head, and my body reacted on his own volition.”

John takes a moment to let it all sink in. Sherlock had been watching him for so long, he realises. He has been feeling like this for so much longer, and John can’t begin to think about what it must have been like. 

“You didn’t want to feel like this?” He asks, not sure why exactly.

“I didn’t know I could feel like this at all,” Sherlock replies. “I had never thought about it before, sex. Everyone seemed obsessed with it, and I always failed to understand why. But then… then you were right here, and I couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to kiss every inch of your skin.”

John closes his eyes, breathing out slowly, “God, I thought about that too.”

Sherlock moves against him, reminding them both of John’s state. “I want this, John.”

“I really think we need to talk more about it,” John replies. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, but I also really don’t want to leave this bed right now.”

“Then don’t,” Sherlock replies, guiding both of their hands down again. 

John inhales sharply, “You said you touched yourself before?” He asks, images of Sherlock doing just that making him harder. Sherlock nods, his own breathing more and more ragged. “Let’s do it, then,” he offers. “Together.”

Sherlock goes still before letting out a quiet moan, “Together?”

John nods, letting go of Sherlock’s hand and urging him to turn around. Sherlock doesn’t wait long, rolling to his other side and facing him. They stare at each other for a long moment, John taking in the flushed cheeks and bright eyes before leaning in for a proper kiss. Sherlock goes pliant into his arms, pressing them closer again and both of their moans get lost inside the kiss. John makes sure not to move, letting Sherlock deepen the kiss before pulling away.

“To take the edge off,” John murmurs, “and then… then we can talk.”

Sherlock licks his lips, eyes roaming all over John’s face as he says, “Yes.”

John knows he needs to act first, to make Sherlock understand he wants him just as much, and with a deep inhale, he slides one hand down his chest and into his pants, moaning softly. Sherlock is watching him, eyes wide, and his lips parted. 

“I did it too, you know,” John breathes, pulling at his cock slowly. “Touched myself while thinking about the two of us.” Sherlock moans, his hand suddenly down his own pants, and John can’t help but look down. “I wondered what it would be like too. Just to watch you, completely naked and mine.”

“ _ John _ ,” Sherlock pants, his hand moving along his erection, still trapped inside his clothing. 

“I want to touch you,” John continues, already out of breath. “All of you.”

“Yes,” Sherlock moans, hand moving faster. “I want you to.”

John crashes their mouths together again, both of their hands bringing them closer and closer to orgasm. He can’t remember the last time he felt so desperate for release, and he stops himself from picturing Sherlock’s hand around his cock or he’ll come much sooner than anticipated. 

“John, John, I…” Sherlock moans when they part, his breath hot against John’s lips.

“Yes,” John pants. “Yes, just like this.”

Sherlock’s eyes find his, sharp and full of lust, and there’s little John can do except tip over the edge, letting his pleasure explode and feeling Sherlock’s body shudder against his at the same time. Holding him through it, John lets the bliss linger just a little longer, pressing small kisses all over Sherlock’s face. He’s not sure exactly what happens next, who cleans who or when they’ll manage to fall back asleep, but he knows one thing for sure; he’s going to try his best to make this brilliant, magnificent man happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post chapter! I'll do my best to update every day again!
> 
> Enjoy,  
> Pauline.


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock bites at his lower lip worryingly, eyes going from face to face as he waits for the right one to finally appear. He really doesn't understand why they had to go back to Uni, now of all times, when they could have stayed locked together in Sherlock's bedroom, learning more about each other. 

John had left his flat three hours ago, dragging Sherlock all the way down to the street before forcing himself to get a cab and go home to change. Sherlock had started, wondering if he could just run after him, but he had decided to remain on the pavement. With the feeling of John's lips lingering against his skin, Sherlock had watched as John disappeared down the street. Climbing back up the stairs to his now cold and empty flat had felt like a punishment, especially after having spent hours wrapped around John.

And now John is nowhere to be seen and Sherlock has no idea what he's supposed to do.

After what happened Saturday morning, Sherlock hadn't been able to look at John without feeling something warm spread throughout his entire body. John had smiled and assured him it was perfectly normal to feel this aroused around each other, and yet, he hadn't made any moves for the rest of the weekend. Sherlock had both hoped and feared he would, wondering what it would be like to explore more of John's body but at the same time having no idea how to do so.

John had been patient, more than patient really, and Sherlock knows for a fact he has never felt so alive than during the past two days. It had been awkward at first, the two of them lying in bed, sticky with their own semen and their breathing echoing in the room, but it had quickly become natural to let John lead them both to the bathroom. He had left him there, saying he would take care of breakfast and shower after him, and Sherlock had fallen in love just a bit more.

They had spent the weekend discovering each other in all sorts of ways. Sherlock had watched, fascinated, as John cooked them lunch and dinner, going on and on about how his mother had taught him to during long nights. John had seemed just as fascinated when Sherlock started to explain how he ordered each book on his shelf and all the writers he’d sent corrections to. But what Sherlock had liked the most were the hours spent on the sofa, engrossed in each other, sharing kisses instead of watching whatever the movie was. Ever so careful, John had made sure to pull away when hands and mouths drifted too far.

Sherlock never wants to sit down on his sofa alone anymore, only with John's body pressed against his.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock lets out a loud breath, lips curling into a smile as he deduces John hasn't changed his mind since he left. He remains still, watching as John comes closer and closer, grinning at him.

"John, how are y-"

John pulls him into a kiss, letting their mouths crash together and their breath mix in the middle. Sherlock closes his eyes, the voices in his head fading away and John taking all the space there.

"How am I?" John whispers, smiling against his lips. "Is that really what you're asking?"

Sherlock doesn't open his eyes yet, breathing out a quiet, "I think I'm nervous."

John chuckles, kissing him once more, "I think I'm nervous too," he whispers. "But only because I keep thinking you're going to tell me I'm really just an idiot, not worthy of your time anymore." Sherlock looks at him this time, unable to form any words for a second, and John laughs again. "See. Idiot."

"Yes," Sherlock replies, "Let's agree, for this time only, that we're both idiots."

John nods, "Deal" and kisses him again, tongue darting out to meet his.

Sherlock is just about to get lost into the kiss when someone hits John's shoulder, breaking them apart, "Well, well, well, look at that!"

"Greg," John sighs, pulling away.

Sherlock vaguely remembers John's teammate, and frowns as the man pats his shoulder too, "Good job on making him forget about that bloody kisser."

John bursts out laughing, and Sherlock hides his own smile.

"He didn't," John replies, waving as Mike Stamford makes his way towards them. "He's the mysterious kisser."

Sherlock can't repress a laugh this time, watching Greg stare at them with wide eyes.

"What did I miss," Stamford asks as soon as he gets close enough, frowning at Greg.

"Holmes," Greg replies, "He's the kisser."

"I figured, yes," Stamford smiles, winking at John who's frowning now.

"You knew?"

"I had my doubts after Sherlock agreed to help you, but then at the training it became completely obvious," Mike says, looking directly at him, and Sherlock shakes his head.

"I underestimated you, Stamford."

"Mate, we all did," Greg replies, bumping Stamford's shoulder, the sound of their laughter filling the air.


	16. Chapter 16

John takes out his phone as soon as he’s out of the class, his fingers quickly tapping out the message he had been dying to send an hour ago.

  **sent / 13:43**

Sorry I missed you at lunch, the class lasted longer than planned.

  


He barely has the time to say goodbye to Mike when Sherlock replies.

**received / 13:43**

It’s alright. I went home to eat. SH

**sent / 13:44**

Are you still there?

**received / 13:44**

Yes. SH

**sent / 13:45**

Maybe I could come by after my last class, around 6?

  


John bites his lip nervously, hoping Sherlock won’t mind. He hasn’t seen him all day, and to be entirely honest, he’s missing his boyfriend quite a lot. It still feels strange sometimes, depending on someone’s presence like this, but John doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it just now. He- no, they both need to enjoy the moment, to let things go their own way and not worry about anything else.

**received / 13:46**

Yes. I could order take away if you want. SH

**sent / 13:47**

Perfect. It’s a date then!

**received / 13:48**

John, there’s something I want to ask you. SH

  


John stops in the middle of the hallway, staring at his phone and taking a deep breath before replying carefully.

**sent / 13:49**

Yeah?

**received / 13:52**

Tonight, I’d like you to stay the night. SH

  


John closes his eyes for the briefest second, a pang of arousal making it hard to focus, but he forces himself to text his reply quickly before Sherlock can start to overthink it.

**sent / 13:53**

Yes. I’d love that.

**received / 13:56**

I’d also like us to try again. SH

**received / 13:56**

Sex I mean.  SH

  


John lets out a small laugh, shaking his head fondly and typing,

**sent / 13:57**

Yes, okay. We can talk about it when I’m there.

**received / 13:58**

6:30? SH

**Sent / 13:58**

6:30, yes. See you then.

  


He doesn’t wait for a reply, knowing perfectly Sherlock doesn’t send useless texts, and tucks his phone back inside his pocket. _This afternoon is going to feel like an eternity_ , John sighs, heading for this next class. He resists the urge to text Sherlock again for the next four hours, absently listening to the teacher and taking notes when he realises all the other students are doing so. It’s only been five days, and yet John can’t seem to be able to think about anything else than Sherlock’s lips against his own and their joined laughter filling the room. They haven’t had _the_ proper talk yet, but John is beginning to think tonight is the night. If he already considers Sherlock as his boyfriend, he wants to make sure Sherlock is on the same page.

As soon as the last class is over, John is all but running out of the building straight to Sherlock’s flat. He doesn’t bother texting him, rather liking the idea of surprising Sherlock by getting there earlier than planned, but when he arrives at his flat, he finds him already waiting at the front door.

“John,” he exclaims as soon as he spots him, and John barely has the time to reply before he is being pulled in and kissed soundly. “I knew you’d be early,” Sherlock whispers when he pulls away.

John smiles, stealing another kiss, “Sorry I missed you this morning and at lunch.”

Sherlock shakes his head, brushing their lips together, “You’re here now,” he says, breathing out slowly.

John doesn’t reply, kissing him again instead and this time not giving Sherlock the time to pull away. He’s not sure how long they remain like that, but then John is thinking about Sherlock’s text again and his entire body shivers with anticipation.

“We should go in,” John murmurs.

“Yes,” Sherlock nods, lacing their fingers together. “Take away should arrive in seventeen minutes.”

“Right, yes, food,” John replies, clearing his throat, and he doesn’t miss Sherlock’s shy smile as they both head inside.

Sherlock doesn’t say a word as John washes his hands, simply watching him from the doorway and grabbing his hand again as soon as he’s finished. John doesn’t comment on it, knowing perfectly well that he must have been craving more _touching_ all day too. That’s the thing with Sherlock, he doesn’t talk much, but shares the same feelings as John.

“I’m glad you invited me over tonight,” John says, trying to find a subtle way to start the conversation.

“I thought we talked about it already,” Sherlock replies immediately, tensing next to him.

“We did,” John smiles, leaning in for a kiss, “but there’s still a lot we haven’t discussed.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, squeezing John’s hand, “Such as?”

“Are you my boyfriend?’ John asks, realising subtle isn’t going to help today.

Sherlock looks at him sharply, cheeks flushed and breath short, “Am I?” He asks in a murmur.

John can’t resist the urge to kiss him again, and does so with a grin on his lips, letting Sherlock relax into the touch until he’s sighing in contentment. “I like to think you are, yes.” Sherlock smiles at him, leaning for another kiss, and John leads them both to the sofa blindly. Sherlock manoeuvres them both until he’s lying underneath him, and John pants into the kiss, each point of contact between their bodies burning.

“I’ve been thinking about this for days,” Sherlock confesses, his face tucked against John’s neck. “Ever since that morning, I’ve been wondering if you’d like to do it again.”

John closes his eyes, breathing out slowly, “Of course I want to, Sherlock.”

Sherlock pulls away, staring into his eyes, and John breathes in deeply.

“I don’t want it to be just like last time,” Sherlock says in a whisper.

John swallows, throat suddenly dry, “We can do whatever you want, you know that right?”

Sherlock nods, pulling John’s head down and breathing against his lips, “You. I want to touch you.”

John crashes their lips together, turning the kiss into a promise for so much _more._


	17. Chapter 17

Sherlock feels his entire body shiver as John kisses him again, sliding his tongue inside his mouth and threading both hands in his hair. Trying to repress a moan, Sherlock arches against him, pressing them closer and closer until he can feel every inch of John’s body against him. He knows he’s asking too much, probably going too fast, but it seems that neither of them can stop at this point. 

“Sherlock, are you-” John breathes out when he pulls away, but Sherlock recaptures his mouth before he can finish.

_ Yes _ , he’s sure. He’s been sure for weeks, for months, for years even. He needs John to take him apart only to build him up back up again. He slides one hand down John’s back, answering his question silently by tugging at his shirt, and John exhales loudly through his nose.

“Sherlock,” John pants, pulling away just enough to remove his shirt, and Sherlock can only stare. Sherlock tentatively strokes one finger across John’s chest, avoiding the all too tempting nipple and feels John shudder on top of him. “You?”

Sherlock nods, breathing out deeply before raising both arms above his head, letting John peel off his shirt. Silence falls upon them, only their ragged breathing echoing in the room as John slowly leans down again, lips finding Sherlock’s shoulder blade immediately.

“John,” Sherlock breathes in a murmur, closing his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” John whispers back, mouth sliding down Sherlock’s chest.

Sherlock arches into the touch, unable to repress a moan this time as John’s lips close around his nipple, and he’s rewarded by a slow thrust of John’s erection against his own. “John,” he moans, seeking more friction. “Please.”

John smiles against his skin, rolling his hips regularly now and Sherlock’s entire body is on fire. He digs his nails onto John’s back, locking both legs around his waist and thrusting up to meet his body each time. It’s already too much and yet not enough at the same time, and Sherlock suddenly remembers he wants so much  _ more _ than this.

“We need to go to the bedroom,” Sherlock says, feeling tense again. “We’ll be more comfortable there and you’ll be able to touch more of m-”

“Sherlock,” John smiles, kissing him softly, “Don’t overthink this.”

Sherlock closes his eyes, breathing out deeply, “Sorry.”

“Let’s get up and into bed,” John offers, getting to his feet and pulling Sherlock up. “Alright?”

Sherlock nods, unable to stop himself from staring at John’s bare chest and the considerable budge covered by his trousers. “Coming?” John asks, winking as Sherlock feels himself blush. Shaking his head, Sherlock leads them both toward the bedroom, refusing to think too much about the complete lack of knowledge he has about what’s going to happen.

“Sherlock,” John smiles as soon as they’re inside, “Let me.”

Sherlock exhales loudly, letting John turn him around and seal their lips together again, his hands sliding down his back. He stops on the waistband of his trousers, teasing for a long moment before starting to unbutton them slowly, and Sherlock can’t repress a sigh of pleasure as his erection is freed from the pressure. John doesn’t touch his pants, not yet, and takes a step back to look at him. Sherlock smiles, finding in John’s face all he needs in order to reciprocate and he undresses him just as slowly. They both step out of their trousers, and Sherlock follows John down on the bed, lying face to face.

“Is this what you were thinking about when you texted me?” John asks in a whisper.

Sherlock nods slowly, “Yes, and much more.” He closes his eyes as John leans for another kiss, letting their bodies grow closer together again until they’re pressed against the other. Unable to stop himself, Sherlock thrusts against John’s erection, eliciting a moan from them both. “Can we take these off?” He asks in a breath, already desperate for more.

John laughs into the kiss, both hands sliding down Sherlock’s chest and inside his pants, tugging at them slowly, “Together then,” he murmurs, and Sherlock is sliding John’s dark pants down his legs all too quickly, making them both laugh some more. “There,” John smiles, helping them both to finally get naked, and Sherlock holds his breath. “Still alright?”

“Yes,” Sherlock breathes, eyes travelling all over John’s body, fingers stroking down his chest and much lower. “That is what I wanted,” he continues, unable to stop now. “To have you like this, to see all of you.”

“You’ve got all of me,” John replies, moaning softly as Sherlock’s fingers brush his pelvis. “All of me.”

Sherlock smiles, needing more than ever to be touching John in this very moment, and closing his hand around him before he can think twice about it.

“Oh fuck,” John pants, throwing his head back. Sherlock strokes him again, watching fascinated as John bites down on his lower lip. “Christ, Sherlock.”

“Good?” Sherlock asks in a whisper, hand still moving over John’s cock.

“Oh yeah,” John smiles, looking back at him, “very good.”

Sherlock doesn’t have the time to reply, his moan echoing in the room when John takes him in hand, stroking from base to tip slowly. He stares into John’s eyes, trying his best to control his already ragged breathing and focusing on his on hand moving on John. With only their moans and breathing filling the air, they both let their hands stroke and caress and discover more and more skin. Head spinning, Sherlock can’t seem to be able to stop crying out each time John’s thumb slides over the head, spreading his precome all over his erection.

“John,  _ John _ .”

“You’re beautiful,” John murmurs, “so beautiful.”

Sherlock arches on the bed, thrusting into John’s hand and realising he’s so close already. Hanging on to his hip with his free hand, Sherlock lets himself chase his orgasm with sharp thrusts and delicious twists of John’s wrist. He comes with a silent scream, his entire body shaking and John’s hand bringing him to a pleasure he hadn’t imagined possible. He’s not sure how long he remains still, learning how to breathe again, but when he becomes aware of John’s lips leaving small kisses along his neck and shoulder, Sherlock remembers he’s supposed to reciprocate.

“Sorry,” he mutters, embarrassed, “sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop, love,” John smiles, kissing him soundly. “This is perfect, absolutely perfect.” Sherlock closes his eyes, refusing to comment on the nickname and storing the whisper into his Mind Palace quickly. “You’re gorgeous, this was fantastic to witness.”

Sherlock feels himself blush, “But you…”

“I nearly came watching you,” John replies, starting to thrust into Sherlock’s loose fist. “I’ve been dreaming about this moment for so long.”

Sherlock smiles, capturing his lips and resuming his strokes over John’s cock. He swallows all of his moans, pressing their bodies back together and trusting in John’s body language to tell him just how fast, how hard to go.

“Sherlock, god, yes,” John begins to cry out, his hips losing their rhythm and soon he’s crying out Sherlock’s name, coming all over their stomachs, and Sherlock can’t do anything but watch, mesmerized. “Fuck,” John pants against his lips, “You’re amazing.”

Sherlock can’t help but laugh, feeling ridiculously happy, “I’m quite certain you are.”

John smiles, leaning in for another kiss, and without a single doubt, Sherlock knows he’s ready to give himself entirely to John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost this end of this story....  
> The last three chapters will explore their relationship over a few months, so I hope you'll like them :)
> 
> Thank you again for all the love for this story, you are the best readers!
> 
> Pauline


	18. Epilogue One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting the last three chapters at the same time since it's three small epilogues taking place a few months apart.

John wakes up warm, the sun peeking through the window and Sherlock’s body wrapped all around him. Not opening his eyes yet, John breathes it all in. Three months since he kissed Sherlock for the first time, and it still feels like yesterday. They have done much more since, a lot more, John thinks with a smile, the memories of the night before still vivid. If there’s one thing he hadn’t expected, it was Sherlock’s determination to try it all when it came to sex. Just few hours ago, Sherlock had insisted on trying his fourth felation, wanting to improve his technique and catalogue more of John’s reactions, and really, John couldn’t refuse anything he asked.

John had made sure to go slow anyway, introducing Sherlock to new ways of pleasure day after day and making sure he was ready for more each time. John knows Sherlock is thinking about penetrative sex more and more, but he’s giving him the opportunity to broach the subject on his own time. They sometimes spend hours whispering to each other in the dark, confessing fantasies and fears to the other, and John has learned to trust Sherlock more than anyone else. There are still memories John isn’t ready to share, and he knows Sherlock has some too, but John is confident they’ll get there, slowly.

John told his sister five days ago, introducing Sherlock during one of their weekly coffee meetings, and as expected, Harry had been overjoyed. She had questioned Sherlock for hours, asking the most embarrassing details and grinning like an idiot when John had taken Sherlock’s hand and said he didn’t have to answer any of her stupid questions (which had only made Harry laugh even more). Still, Sherlock had looked at him with shining eyes all evening after that and kissed him for several minutes in bed, whispering just how lucky he felt.

Sherlock is still getting used to not being alone (his words, last evening), and John is making sure he’s always eating with either Greg, Mike or himself at Uni. They don’t talk about it, but John knows Sherlock is aware of all these little things, but his lack of objection keeps John hopeful he isn’t doing something stupid. Their relationship had surprised some, but bored most of the students, or at least those who cared enough to notice. Still, Sherlock is sometimes hesitant to accept John’s hand while they are out, but John has decided to give him all the time he needs to fully process the simple fact that they are in this together.

“You’re awake.”

John opens his eyes, looking down at Sherlock’s mop of curls on his chest, “I am.”

“You’re thinking about last night,” Sherlock continues.

“How could you tell?” John asks, laughing.

“I can see, and feel, your erection from here, John,” Sherlock replies, sounding all too serious, and John laughs again.

“I thought you'd be used to it by now,” John smiles, “we’ve been waking up together almost every day.”

Sherlock looks up at him, eyes still full of sleep as he says, “I’m not complaining.”

“I know,” John whispers before leaning in for a proper morning kiss.


	19. Epilogue Two

Sherlock arches on the bed, his entire body going still as he comes all over his own stomach. He’s not sure what he’s saying or moaning or breathing, but John is still deep inside him, thrusting faster and harder, and Sherlock is starting to think he could come again just like that.

“Oh, fuck, Sherlock,” John cries out, thrusting one last time into him before coming, his body hot and sweaty above Sherlock’s.

Sherlock watches, mesmerized, unable to move expect to pull John down for a kiss, messy and glorious. They are both still panting when they part, breathing against each others mouths, and Sherlock feels something very warm spread all through his chest, “John,” he murmurs, threading both hands in his hair, desperately trying to find the right words.

“I love you,” John breathes, kissing him again. “God, I love you.”

Sherlock laughs, not sure exactly why, and brings John down for another kiss, a bit more desperate this time.  _ This _ , he thinks,  _ this is what I want for the rest of my life _ . “I’m in love with you, John Watson,” Sherlock smiles against his lips.

“Let’s never leave this bed,” John says, stroking both of Sherlock’s cheeks with his thumbs. “I mean it, I don’t want to go back to my room tonight, or ever. I want this bed to be our bed, not just yours. I want to go to sleep in this bed every night, with you next to me and the promise of waking up to your body against mine in the morning.”

“John,” Sherlock breathes out, once again lost for words.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not making any sense and that it’s probably too rushed, but I-”

“Stop,” Sherlock cuts him off, leaning in for another kiss. “Yes. This is already our bed anyway.”

John laughs, his entire body shaking and Sherlock gasps as he slips out of him, “Oh shit, sorry.”

“No, I’m fine,” Sherlock smiles. “I know you love this bed, but we should maybe take a shower, don’t you think?”

“I knew I was dating a clever man,” John grins, winking at him and Sherlock pushes him off of him, laughing.

“Don’t start,” he warns, knowing just how much John likes to tease him. “The shower is over there, in case you forgot.”

John rolls onto his back, stretching, and Sherlock can’t help but stare.

“You’re sure you want us to take that shower together?” John asks, still grinning.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, getting to his feet and grabbing a tissue to clean his stomach quickly, “You can stay here if you want.”

He hears John laugh again as he walks to the bathroom, quickly followed by footsteps, and by the time he makes it inside the shower, there’s John’s still-warm body pressed against his own and lips peppering soft kisses to his neck.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” John whispers, and Sherlock knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“I’ve been feeling this way for a long time, too,” Sherlock replies, turning into his arms to brush their lips together.

John holds him closer, kisses him deeper, and Sherlock finds himself wondering once more if he will ever get used to feeling this loved.


	20. Epilogue Three

“Come on, John, you can’t let us down like this,” Greg complains for the dozenth time, waving both hands in the air in despair.

“I’m not doing it this time,” John replies. “Told you already, many times if I recall.”

“But you’re the one who brings the most girls in,” Greg exclaims before adding with a wink toward Sherlock, “and boys.”

“Greg, I’m not doing it, stop asking,” John asserts once and for all.

“If we don’t have enough money to play next year, I hope you’ll feel guilty!”

John laughs, quickly followed by Mike and Sherlock as they all go to throw away their napkins and paper plates. They had decided to come together to the fair, Greg teasing them all week about how romantic it would be to relieve these precious moments, and Sherlock had shut him up with a few deductions about his current girlfriend, making John ever prouder.

John is about to offer they go find some ice cream when Sherlock tugs on his hand, pulling him away from Mike and Greg.

“What is it?” John asks, worrying Sherlock might be bored already.

“Nothing,” Sherlock smiles, “I was just thinking that Greg is right.”

“He is?” John frowns.

“Yes,” Sherlock nods. “All the players are eating right now, so the cabin is empty.”

It takes another second for John to understand, and then he’s shouting at Mike that they have to go, dragging Sherlock by the hand all the way to the cabin. They’re breathless when they arrive, and John looks around them quickly, making sure they’re alone.

“So, the back door?” he asks, smiling at Sherlock.

“See you soon, captain,” Sherlock replies before running to the other side of the cabin.

John steps inside quickly, heading straight for the last room and closing the door carefully behind him. It’s only when he’s standing in the middle of it, alone, that he realises he doesn’t have anything to use as a blindfold, but decides that closing his eyes will do just fine this time. He smiles as he hears Sherlock stopping in front of the door, and says “Better come in or you’ll miss your chance.”

He doesn’t move as Sherlock comes in, approaching slowly before stopping in front of him. He waits a second more before adding, “Come on, claim your kiss.”

He’s still smiling when Sherlock brushes their mouths together, just a touch of lips, and he can feel Sherlock smile. He doesn’t hesitate this time, threading his fingers through Sherlock’s hair as he deepens the kiss, letting their tongues meet lazily and opening his eyes when they part.

“Much better than the first one,” Sherlock whispers.

John laughs, shaking his head, “I really, really liked that first one too, you know.”

“I know,” Sherlock breathes as he leans in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the end! Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments during this story, you all kept me writing when sometimes I really didn't felt like doing anything. You are truly the best!
> 
> Love,  
> Pauline.


End file.
